A Collision of Fates
by Nocturnal Eclipse
Summary: For the wyvern knight Heath, deserting his homeland is not something he can force himself to accept and redemption is not something he sees himself obtaining. But fate works in strange ways and his comes in the form of the red haired troubador Priscilla.
1. Prologue: Deserter

Author's note: Greetings. DarkEclipse45 here. You've found your way to to "A Collision of Fates", a fanfic for my favorite Fire Emblem pairing, Heath and Priscilla! Heath, the prideful deserter from Bern and Priscilla, the kind and serene troubador from Etruria. Both are two of my favorite characters, so I figured I would write a story for them. The only other stories I've seen for them took place _after _they met, so I thought to write one that was a little more in depth. While the story is listed as a "HeathxPriscilla" fanfic, it's more of a Heath fanfic than anything. It will mainly revolve around Heath and his experiences with Eliwood's army but will also include Priscilla as well and her impact on Heath's life. It's not exclusively romance, nor is it just an action/adventure-type retelling of of _Rekka No Ken. _I've never written romance before, so I'm doing my best. Anyways, enjoy the story!

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**A Collision of Fates**

**Prologue: Deserter**

_Deserter._

That word. It haunted him every waking moment of every day, hounding his every step and refusing to go away. No matter how hard he tried, he could not escape it, could not run away from it. That word was always there, stuck in his head and the forefront of all his thoughts. Mocking him, taunting him, it pursued him relentlessly, a dark shadow that would could not be dispelled by any form of light.

_Get out of there! _the man screamed inwardly.

Already he had succumbed to madness once and he was dangerously close to falling into its dark shroud once again. His feelings now were just as strong as they had been before and the man had hoped that with the passage of time his sense of guilt would subside. But even his best efforts to do so had failed and while the situation should have been improving, it was only getting worse. Time had failed to ease its passing. The man tried everything he could think of to cure himself of the pain, yet nothing seemed to work. He had nowhere else to go and he was slowly falling into despair.

_Deserter. You left them to die._

Why couldn't he force the words out of his mind?

_I...No! There was nothing more I could have done! They told me to leave..._

Still, the thoughts persisted.

_Stop lying to yourself. Have you no shame? What happened to your honor as a knight? There was always more that you could have done, that you should have done. You could have turned back..._

That was lie. He couldn't have done anything else to save them.

_Deserter._

Why should this bother him so much? After all, it was only word. But words had a way of getting inside your head, your heart and even your very soul if you weren't careful to block them out. Once they had progressed that far, however, it was nigh impossible to shake loose of the shackles they placed on you. Most often it wasn't the word that affected someone the most, it was the person or event associated with it. In the man's case, the latter more than the former, though both plagued him just as well. What choice did he have at the time, anyway? He had simply been following orders and his own pride had allowed him nothing less.

The wyvern rider known as Heath lay slumped against the trunk of a large oak tree, its rough bark digging into his back. His lance rested across his lap, his fingers toying idly with it. His armor lay a few yards to his left, its dark blue surface glinting in the light of the full moon. He sat at the edge of a forest clearing on the side of the mountain, secluded and shut away in his own thoughts. Opening and closing his eyes periodically, Heath let the feel of the cool night air surround him and give him a sense of tranquility. He had always preferred the dark, finding little or no comfort at all in being out in the sun for long periods of time. Only the light of the moon and stars could aid in healing the wounds no one could see, the ones that afflicted him the most. Hyperion slept on the other side of the clearing, his great chest rising and falling with each deep breath he took.

It had been almost two weeks since the two had fled Bern and began their lives as fugitives from the only place they had called home. Even after that time, Heath had not yet discounted the possibly that he was still being hunted. He was branded a traitor and a murderer and the Wyvern Knights did not tolerate treason. He lived in constant fear of being discovered and if he was, he would undoubtedly be sentenced to death if he wasn't killed on sight. Neither of those would happen, Heath knew, for he had no honor left to his name and would rather die with a lance in his hand and Hyperion at his side.

Yet, in the end, it would all be for naught. Every single one of his companions were likely dead by now. Isaac, Lachius, Belminade…even his commander. All of the them had been killed by an absurd farce that exceeded any before it. How was it that he had escaped Death while the others had been ensnared by its icy grip? They had told him to go despite his own insistence to stay and fight. Knowing that if he had stayed any longer he would certainly be killed, he had turned tail and ran. Heath was living proof that the Wyvern Knights of Bern were not what they once were. There was no doubt that many in the ranks of Bern's military would work together to silence him.

It shouldn't matter to him, in any case. It was no secret that King Desmond persecuted anyone who did not garner his favor, even nobles who had provided him much help in the past. Often there was no solid evidence or reason for these actions but since Desmond was the ruler of a powerful and militant nation like Bern, he needed neither justification or consultation to carry out his desires. To do this, he enlisted his own knights to do whatever was required. Heath was a soldier through and through but only weeks before his desertion the recent acts of his King and subordinates had begun to make him question his duty as a knight. Heath had rashly voiced his own opinions to his commander and she had harshly reminded him that knights had no place to disagree with those in the upper class system. His commander seemed to embrace the fact that she would never be anything other than a knight and her duty was solely to lead the soldiers she commanded. A knight, politics and government corruption notwithstanding, was to serve his liege and lord to the very gates of the abyss.

But none of that mattered anymore. Bern was behind him and his fellow knights were all dead. Heath no longer had any place to call his home and no friends to rely on. Well, that wasn't exactly true. He had Hyperion and as long as he had his wyvern he needed nothing else. And his lance, of course. As long as he had those two, he had no need for anything else. He was solitary, he had no need for friends anymore. The only friends he had ever had were dead. Sure, he had found work once again and while some of those in the company treated him fairly, he did not consider them as friends.

Perhaps it was because he feared of what they would think if they found out who he was. Heath had stripped the Bern crest off of his armor in attempt to hide his identity, but already his current employer suspected who and what he was. Hyperion gave away that Heath was a wyvern rider of Bern and while he could argue he was a knight on reconnaissance work, it seemed unlikely that anyone would believe him. If Heath's employer found out who he was, he would report him to Bern to make extra money. Unless, of course, he found Heath useful enough in a fight to keep him around. Having a wyvern rider in your ranks was quite a boon, was it not? The thought made him feel a bit more secure about his situation, but anxious nonetheless.

His eyes fell and found the lance in his rough, battle-scarred hands. The lance was the pride and joy of any knight, no matter his nationality or rank. The knights of Bern were the most fabled in all of Elibe, the ones other knights from lands such as Lycia and Etruria found to be the most methodical. Bern was the only country in all of Elibe where wyverns still flew and this set Bern apart from all of the other countries. It was because of this, perhaps, that the training to become a knight of Bern was more rigorous and painstaking than any other. The lance he held was the same lance he had received on the day he had become a knight. The lance had seen him through every skirmish and hopeless battle he had faced as a knight, thus aptly named _Salvatore. _However, the lance seemed to have lost the purpose for which it was named. A knight's lance no longer, it had been reduced to a deserter's lance and a deserter had no honor in life, no reason for existence. He had abandoned his king, his country and his friends so that he could save himself. His own selfishness disgusted him. Redemption was something he could not see himself finding anytime soon.

A rustle in the brush behind him brought Heath to his feet immediately, brandishing his lance in both hands. He couldn't help himself. He jumped at the slightest sound nowadays. His constant fear of being found allowed for nothing less. Hyperion noticed as well and raised his head before sitting back on his haunches. A wide yawn revealed the rows of razor sharp teeth and whoever was approaching was still a ways off. Hyperion did not seem to be concerned that whoever it was posed any threat.

_It's probably Sealen coming to check on me again, _Heath thought to himself, balancing his lance loosely in both hands. He sighed. That man didn't seem to get it. No matter how many times Heath turned him away, Sealen insisted on getting to know the wyvern rider better. That was the dangerous part for Heath, as he had was afraid of what would happen if his secret was revealed. The man had survived a previous skirmish between Laus and Ostia and was as battle hardened as they came. Heath waited for a few more moments and sure enough the other man hobbled into the clearing. Sealen leaned heavily on an oaken staff held in his right hand, body bent, taking the pressure off of his left leg. Upon seeing Heath, he eyed the the wyvern rider curiously.

"Always ready to fight, eh Heath?" he rasped, moving closer. "But I suppose I should expect as much from one of Bern's wyvern riders." He tried to stand up straight but his grip on the staff slipped and he crumpled down on his leg. Sealen winced.

"Damn leg..." he muttered.

Heath hesitated. "How...how is your leg, Sealen?"

"What kind of stupid question is that?" Sealen retorted, struggling to his feet again. "How do you think it's doing, you imbecile? Look at how I'm forced to move around! Damn fighter nearly took it off in that last battle! Lucky I had been paying attention or I may have lost it right then and there."

"My...my apologies," Heath responded. Sealen glared at him. Heath paused before saying, "Is there something you need from me, Sealen? You must have something in mind, particularly considering you trekked all the way up here on you injured leg."

"Yeah, the commander wants you back at camp immediately," Sealen replied. "He wants to go over our plans one more time before we deploy tomorrow morning. You'd best not keep him waiting, knowing how temperamental he gets."

Heath paused. _Huh. __That's odd. No questions? No "How are you?" or "What are you up to now?". Strictly business, huh? _Sealen was an imposing man and used to getting his way, except when it came to Heath. He seemed dissatisfied with Heath's story and tried to loosen his tongue about it when the commander couldn't. Perhaps Sealen had realized that it was a wasted effort and there was nothing to be gained by pressing the matter. Not likely though. He suspected Heath had some secret he was hiding, with good reason of course.

_You are a deserter. Nothing more._

_That may be true but at least I still have my pride._

"Hey!" Sealen snapped his fingers and waved his hand in front of Heath's unresponsive face. "You paying attention, kid?"

"Yeah, whatever," Heath replied disinterestedly. He turned his back and began loading his armor onto Hyperion's back. He really didn't feel like talking right now, especically not to Sealen. "I'll be back at camp in a few moments."

Sealen snorted. "Well make it quick. After all, I had to hike up here for damn near an hour to find you."

Heath didn't make the other man wait for a reply. Mounting Hyperion in one fluid motion, he took the reins in his left hand and balanced _Salvatore _in his right. Urging the wyvern upward, Hyperion kicked off the ground with his powerful legs and ascended into the sky. Within moments, Sealen and the clearing on the side of the mountain were behind them. The exhilarating feeling of weightlessness overcame him and the night breeze rushed up against his face. Though he felt more at peace here, that same word was still the prominent thought in his mind.

_Deserter._

_Is there any hope of redemption for me?_

**...Reviews and constructive criticism are always appreciated.**


	2. Chapter 1: Nightmares

**A Collision of Fates**

**Chapter One: Nightmares**

_There were cries and screams all around him. He tried to block them out, but he could not force himself to do so. The wyvern rider thought about turning back, but he knew that if he did death would have no trouble finding him. When you were a knight of Bern, even the smallest lapse invited death. His companions were behind him somewhere, though he could not tell which ones or where they were. How far had he come from the capital and how far were the mountains that marked the western borders of his homeland? He could see their peaks in the distance but had no way of knowing how far away they were._

_Something whizzed past the right side of his face, missing his cheek by inches. Heath looked down to find several snipers advancing on his position, bows pointed skyward. How did they find him so quickly? He should have lost them in the trees but perhaps these ones had been waiting at the edge of the forest. He realized just how close to the ground he was and pulled up, trying to get out of range of the rapidly approaching archers._

_Too late he did this. A paladin charged out of his blind spot, spearing his right shoulder with a javelin. Heath screamed in pain and veered Hyperion to the left, urging the wyvern forward in attempt to gain height and distance. Gritting his teeth in agony, he pulled the spear from his shoulder and tossed it aside. The horseman gave chase immediately, determined to bring Heath down at any cost, readying his spare javelin and taking aim. He hurled it at Heath's head and the wyvern rider sharply dived into a clearing between trees, narrowly avoiding the attack._

_But the paladin's attempt was never to hit him, but to trap him. Another paladin charged out of trees in front of him, axe lifted, ready to strike. Axes. Why did it have to be axes? Had it been swords, he might have had a better chance at escaping. But with the other paladin closing in from behind, Heath had no way of getting clear before he was trapped in between. Gritting his teeth, Heath hoisted his lance and prepared to meet the charge. _

_"Heath! Look out!"_

_Heath turned. It was Isaac. The other wyvern rider dived down out of the sky on his wyvern Titan, the rider's long black hair flowing behind him. He came down from Heath's left and reached the paladin in front of Heath before the horseman could even react. With complete disregard for his own personal safety, Isaac leapt from the harness of his wyvern onto the paladin, tearing the rider from his mount. The two fell to the ground in a crumpled heap, weapons clashing as they did._

_Using the obvious miracle, for it was exactly that, to his advantage Heath pulled up and got clear of the trees and soared higher. Titan turned back to aid his master, but already the snipers had arrived and opened fire. Arrows buried themselves in the wyvern's soft underbelly and Titan plummeted to the ground, snapping apart tree limbs as he did._

_Isaac was already embroiled in combat with the dismounted paladin, fighting with every ounce of his strength to stay alive. But the other had the advantage on him, bringing his axe down and splintering Isaac's lance in half. Isaac pulled out his short sword, but already the other paladin and snipers had joined the fray, the latter raining arrows down upon him. Heath turned back to aid his companion but Isaac saw this and waved him away._

_"Don't worry about me, Heath! I'll catch up later! Just get out of here!"_

_He was lying and they both knew it. The nearest enemy severed the hand holding Isaac's short sword and kicked the wyvern rider to the ground. Isaac scrambled away, arrows piercing his body with each passing second. So much blood…how was he still alive? The paladin's axe lifted._

_"Isaac!" Tears welled up in Heath's eyes. "Isaac! NO!"_

Heath awoke with a start, his body drenched in a cold sweat. He rubbed his face and ran his hands through his green hair. It was the same nightmare as before, though each time is was a bit different. Each time it was someone new, someone else he had left behind to die. Most often it was Isaac or his commander, those two being the ones he had been closet to during his time as a knight. It wasn't that he hadn't cared about Belminade and Lachius less than other two, he just hadn't known them as well. Realizing that he would not get much sleep now, Heath rose from his sleeping pad, slipped on his boots and exited the tent.

The air was chill and Heath rubbed his arms to get some blood flowing through his cramped muscles. Frost-covered grass crunched beneath his feet and the leaves rustled in the faint breeze. The stars and moon were still visible but a faint light could be seen on the eastern horizon. Heath guessed that dawn was only a few hours away, a light that would most likely bring little warmth to his body. His thoughts still plagued by his most recent nightmare, Heath spotted a large boulder near his tent and sat down to think.

Daybreak came far too quickly and before Heath knew it, the sun and risen in a gap between the distant mountains of Bern, cresting in a brilliant flash of orange and yellow. Heath had watched the sunrises in Bern countless times but somehow this one seemed much more radiant. The orange glow bathed the area in light and dispersed the shadows of the night. A new day was coming and, despite his dark thoughts of the previous night, he felt full of life.

_What does this day have in store for me?_

He was so focused on the spectacle before him that he failed to see Commander Eubans approach from his left and stand beside him. It wasn't until the other placed his hand on Heath's shoulder that he noticed he was there. The wyvern rider jumped in spite of himself.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Eubans looked back at the sunrise. "Kind of gives you the feeling of a new start and that you will accomplish something worthwhile today. Don't you think so, laddie?"

"I suppose so, sir," Heath replied solemnly, not looking at him. "Ever since I left Bern, I haven't had much time for such things anymore. The only free time I get anymore is at night."

"Mm." Eubans looked off over to the main embodiment of their camp. Already the remainder of the troops was beginning to stir. "Call your wyvern and go scout out the road to the south. We're not going to be in friendly territory much longer and I don't want any surprises before we deploy."

Heath rose to his feet, stretching out his cramped muscles. "What would you have me look for today, Commander?" he asked. There was a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "More villages to raid, perhaps? Or maybe even a small band of unarmed merchants that we could rob? None of the above? What kinds of despicable acts have you planned for today?"

Eubans whirled on him angrily. "What did you say, maggot? I'm sure I misheard you." His brow furrowed, revealing the aging crease lines on his face. "It sounded as if you were questioning my orders. Am I wrong?"

Heath stood his ground and shrugged. "What isn't too be questioned about your orders these days, Commander? Ever since we left Laus after our skrimish with Ostia you haven't given us any honorable work to perform. Day after day it's the exact same thing! On your orders we burn villages, ransack homes and bring harm upon people who have no quarrels with us at all! You order us to attack women and children. Look at what you're having us do! We're mercenaries, not cutthroats. Why do you have us commit these atrocious acts? What does any of this have to do with being a mercenary? No coin has crossed our palms. There is no reason for us to fight if no one is paying us for it! These are innocent people, not soldiers or thieves! What you are having us do is apalling, Commander."

Eubans was clearly not in the mood to discuss the matter. He grabbed the front of Heath's tunic. "You forget your place, Heath." His eyes flashed with rage. "You have no right to disobey me. We've been through this before. I thought that a knight such as yourself would know better than to question the orders of your superiors. I am in control of this army. I am the one who makes the final descisions around here. My authority is not to be questioned by the likes of you." He released his grip and stepped back. "This discussion is finished. Now call your wyvern and get going."

He turned to walk away and stopped. "And Heath? Don't ever defy me again. If you question my orders one more time, I'll have you killed." He headed off into the main camp, barking orders and calling for Sealen as he did.

Heath sighed and shook his head. Now matter how hard he tried, he couldn't ever change Eubans' mind on this. The man was as stubborn and morally bankrupt as they came. His only care was filling his own pockets, no matter the cost or method. He was a mercenary under the employ of Laus in name only. The irony of it all made Heath sick. Eubans had been charged with the defense of the country he pledged loyalty to and yet every day he attacked its citizens and stole from them like a common thief. Eubans was no better than the nobles in Bern, Heath realized. Arrogant and self-absorbed. In this, there was no difference between the two.

But thinking about it wasn't going to get him anywhere and Heath's attention turned back to his orders. He hated going on those damn scouting missions. But what further use would Eubans have for a wyvern rider when there wasn't a battle to be fought, anyway? He removed a small whistle from his tunic and blew into it. A barely audible high-pitched sound emitted from it and Heath turned back into his tent to gather his things. When he reemerged, Hyperion was already there waiting and the wyvern eagerly licked his face when he approached. Heath strapped the leather saddle across the wyvern's back and had his armor on in a matter of seconds. He then proceeded to disassemble his tent, pack it and load it onto the saddle. When soldiers were constantly on the move, they learned to get things done quickly and efficiently. Grabbing his lance from the ground, he mounted Hyperion and ascended into the sky.

For the remainder of the morning, the army marched south down through the plains just to the west of the river. Eubans's mercenary company consisted of no more than fifty men now. By midmorning, the sun's heat had already chased away any chill that might have survived the early morning hours and a warm wind blew in from the west. Their path was unobstructed, progress was good and the army only had to stop once along the river's edge to replenish water supplies before setting out again. Commander Eubans rode at the head of the column, back erect and spear held in one hand, barking out orders when they were needed.

All the while Heath flew out ahead and scouted the way, the sweltering heat beating down on his unprotected head mercilessly. The job was dull and agitating, but at least it gave him something to do. The only thing he hated more than scouting was being kept behind the vanguard. Wherever they were going, he knew that Eubans had every intention of fighting and Heath wasn't enitrely sure he wanted to be a part of it. Based on everything that Eubans' army had done so far, it wasn't likely the Eubans had something even remotely honorable in mind. Every so often Heath glanced past the river to the east, in the direction of Bern, wondering if he would ever go back. It would not be long, he thought, since he assumed that Eubans would turn east once they neared Ryerde.

Then, abruptly, Eubans surprised him. The commander turned the mercenary company west across the plains. Had Heath not been paying attention, he would have missed it entirely and continued to fly south. This move puzzled him. _West? _he thought. _Why would we go west? That's in the direction of Ostia. Surely the commander doesn't mean to mount another attack against them. We've rebelled once already and Ostia's knights are hunting us. _Steering Hyperion sharply to the right, he followed at the rear of the army, his own duties forgotten. If Eubans would so abruptly change course without even informing Heath, it was likely that he no further use for the wyvern rider at the army's head.

By midday, the company had passed through both Ryerde and Worde and on its way northwest. Eubans kept a steady pace, intent on reaching whatever destination he had in mind before too long. Surely he didn't mean to attack the capital, that bordered on insanity. But Eubans had never been known for his rational decisions and had a reputation for being dangerously unpredictable. After a time, however, a castle came into view and it became obvious where Eubans intended to go. The army began to spread out through the trees as the neared they fortress, melting into the shadows to await their orders.

When all of the troops were in position, Eubans sent Sealen to the east of the castle to determine what they were up against. By then Heath had moved closer to the ground at the head of the army. Eubans headed down a beaten path through the trees and signaled for Heath to follow him.

Had Heath known that his fate was about to be altered irrevocably, he might not have gone with him.


	3. Chapter 2: Fate Calls

**A Collision of Fates**

**Chapter Two: Fate Calls**

Heath followed Eubans through the trees, the path wide enough to allow Hyperion to fly closer to the ground. Despite having called Heath down there in the first place, Eubans barely acknowledged the wyvern rider's presence at all, riding swiftly in the direction of the fortress. Heath could faintly see the shadows of the mercenaries darting through the trees to his left and right. The forest had gone entirely silent, save for the pounding of the horse's hooves and the flapping of Hyperion's wings. All of the animals and insects had retreated deeper in the trees in the wake of the coming battle.

Eventually the two riders emerged from the trees and came upon the eastern edge of the castle. Instead keeping his distance from the walls, Eubans rode right up next to the fortress and dismounted. Heath landed next to him, but did not feel comfortable following the other's lead. Though there was no sign of a guard, Heath could not shake the feeling that they were being watched. There were sounds, presumably voices of those within the walls, completely oblivious to the threat before them.

"So this is where they're at, huh?" Eubans looked up at the castle walls. "Eliwood and his pack of curs should be here by now." He folded his arms and laughed arrogantly. "They've defeated us once already, but they'll not find me an easy mark this time around!"

"Commander if I may ask a question…" Heath drew closer to Eubans. "Why would you have us do this? Marquess Laus abandoned us and just vanished. We have no reason to engage this group."

Eubans was taken aback. "No reason? We have every reason to do so! They damn near killed Sealen and his unit during our previous skirmish and this time we have the full force of our army behind us! Furthermore, we are answering Marquess Laus's call to arms. Besides, there are supposed to be women and children inside. There's no way we can lose!"

Heath's heart skipped a beat. "Women…and children you say?" Screams from previous horrific events echoed in his mind. "Sir, this is something that no knight, and certainly no man, could do without shame. What you ask is too much."

"Too much?" Eubans approached him and grabbed the breastplate of Heath's armor, pulling him close. Hyperion growled in warning but Eubans ignored him. "You listen well, Heath. I know all about you. I know that you're a fugitive from Bern, not some knight on reconnaissance duty." He saw Heath's face pale and laughed. "Did you seriously think that I would hire somebody into my company without knowing about their past? Word of that rebellion in Bern weeks ago reached ears as far away as Etruria. Then, a few days later, you show up asking for work. Seemed a bit too convenient."

"Commander, you are making a mistake-" Heath began.

Eubans pulled Heath off his mount entirely and shook him so hard that Heath's bones rattled. "Don't give me that crap, you spineless piece of offal!" His voice hardened and his eyes flashed with rage. "How about we take you and hand you over to Bern's wyvern riders? We might even be knighted as a reward, given honest work. What do you say to that?"

Upon getting no response from the other, Eubans laughed again. "Ha! Just as I thought! Everyone wants to protect his own skin. Now that we understand one another, get out there lead the assault on the western edge of the castle." He shoved Heath away none too gently. "Leave none alive!" Heath climbed back on Hyperion and flew off.

Eubans remounted his horse and his voice rang out in the silence. "Mercanaries, to arms! We give no quarter! All forces, attack!"

X

"Rouse yourselves! We're under attack!" Hector's booming voice echoed through the walls of castle. His armor clanked noisily as he ran through the halls, flinging open doors as he did. "Grab your weapons and form up in the bailey!"

Within minutes, the remainder of their small army was formed up in the courtyard near the outer walls, weapons held protectively about them. Most of them had a sleep-filled look in their eyes, the untimely interruption cutting short what few hours of sleep they could find in situations such as these. There was still confusion as to who the enemy was and where it was coming from. The Ostian knights that normally defended the castle were speaking frantically to Lord Hector and deciding on ways to end the battle quickly before Lord Uther arrived. If the battle was still raging when the Marquess arrived, Hector would be the one to solely answer for the disturbance.

Once they had all assembled, Lord Eliwood proceeded with setting up the usual battle formations, positioning the cavaliers and knights in the front lines, placing archers behind them. He directed the foot soldiers to fill in the gaps and moved the healers and mages to the rear. Along with Hector and Lyn, Eliwood took up the head of their small force and prepared to meet the attack.

The red haired troubadour Priscilla did as she was told, guiding her horse to the rear of the army. Before she did, she knelt to check on Nils, who had suddenly grown ill and collapsed in the courtyard. His head was feverish and his breathing shallow, but there appeared to be no sign of any physical injury. Ninian had pleaded that they leave Nils where he was and not to move him at any cost and Priscilla was not about to dispute that.

Mounting her horse, she positioned herself to the left of the mage Erk. Though their was not much need for him to be her escort any longer, Erk remained intent on keeping Priscilla in his sights during battle. She stood behind the always sociable archer Wil, who smiled at her disarmingly, as he did to everybody before battle. He proceeded to nock an arrow into his bowstring and take his stance. She smiled back at him and turned her attention to the situation at hand.

She could not see very many soldiers at the moment, as she guessed that most were still outside the castle. Most of them were common foot soldiers, but it was surprising to see, however, that several archers had progressed far enough to seize the ballistae that would have normally been used for the castle's defense. That would make proceeding through the lines to much more difficult if they couldn't be retaken.

Priscilla felt safe enough where she was, though she figured that Wil would dash off and hop on one of the ballistae when it was available. She was still getting accustomed to the ins and outs of battle in everyday life, the clashing of weapons and screams of agony becoming part of her daily routine. Erk would not leave her side, she knew, and though she had the dependable mage for protection, she could not shake the feeling that something was coming for her.

It was obvious when she looked at it from hindsight. Ever since the group had returned from Valor, the Dread Isle, she had begun to have strange dreams and sometimes even nightmares. Most of the time the dreams were vague and unclear in origin, but they had been scattered upon her return to Lycia. Recently, however, they had grown increasingly frequent and more nightmarish in appearance. In the dreams, she was alone on a darkened forest path, lost and unable to find her way again. She tried every way she could possibly think of to escape but each time she found herself back on the path. Then, toward the end of the dream, a figure approached her from down the path, tall and dark. Priscilla did not run, for she found something about the figure to be strangely enticing. The dream ended each time as the figure up to her and before she could see its face.

Last night and today the dreams and the feelings were as strong as they had ever been. She had attempted to discuss the matter with her brother Raymond several times, thinking that he understood her more than anyone else in the company. But her brother resolutely ignored her each time, commenting that these dreams had no significance.

It left her at a loss. No one understood her. Even among everyone in the group, Priscilla did not feel close to anybody. Erk was as taciturn as ever, still serving as nothing more than her escort and speaking to her only when he felt it necessary to check up on her. The only other person that ever spoke to her voluntarily was the loquacious cavalier Sain, but he flirted with just about every female in the camp on a regular basis. Priscilla found his advances unwelcome and irksome, seeking to avoid him each time he came near. Now more than ever, she felt completely alone.

Her had strayed up to the necklace around her neck. The small, red gem attached to the gold chain was truly the most valuable thing she possessed. It was the only thing she had to remember her home, her _true _home of Cornwell, by. She had no idea of its origins or who had given it to her. Her adoptive father hadn't given it to her. He had said so himself. Priscilla could only guess that she had it in her possession before being taken in by Count Caerlon of Etruria. Most strange, it had a faint blue aura around it that pulsated softly. She knew what she could use it for and just how precious a single use was. She wrapped her hand around the small gem, its surface warm to the touch. Just having it with her gave her a small measure of comfort.

Already the battle had begun, the first of the enemy forces were advancing and head of Eliwood's army charging to meet the advance. Reins held in one hand and staff in the other, Priscilla prepared to ride to the aid of any that might need help. She was invaluable in that respect. At least she knew the army had need of her.

Her thoughts drifted back to the dream.

_What was coming for her?_

X

Although the battle had commenced for no more than ten minutes Heath knew he was on the losing side. The soldiers in Eliwood's army were proving themselves to be superior in every aspect, their tactics and attack movements much more coordinated and finesse than those in Eubans' mercenary force. They simply did not charge forward in reckless determination as those in Eubans' army. Rather, they held a defensive position in the middle of bailey and picked off the enemies one by one. Having reclaimed the ballistae with ease, the members of Eliwood's army held off their attackers effortlessly. Already Heath had decided to defect to the other side if the situation allowed.

He had not decided to do this simply because his unit was actively being destroyed but because of what he had been commanded to do. Attacking a group that consisted of women and children was against his moral codes. As he had led his unit to the west side of the fortress, Heath had gotten a glimpse of someone collapsed within the courtyard, more than likely a boy. It was likely that Eubans knew this as well and thus felt more confident about his ability to put an end to this group.

Heath could abide it no longer. He was fed up with fighting for those who desired only to accomplish their own selfish ends. Once the opportunity arose, he would make his move.

He was within the treasure room now and the majority of his unit had already been cut down. The imposing figure of a general was just down the hall, an impenetrable wall that held off the attacks from the south and east. Fortunately the ballistae had not caught sight of him yet, the eyes of the archers that rode them focused on other things. Heath spotted the lone figure of a red-headed swordsman and the wyvern rider determined that was the man he was looking for.

With the general embroiled in combat with two myrmidons, Heath seized the opportunity and made a break for where Lord Eliwood stood. He knew he was taking a dangerous risk but it would be the only chance he got. When he neared the Pheraean noble, he called out.

"Lord Eliwood of Pherae, correct?" The swordsman turned. Upon seeing that the one who called him over was not an ally, he raised his blade and prepared to strike.

"Peace, Eliwood!" Heath lowered his lance and guided Hyperion to the ground. "I have no desire to fight you. I mean to join your group, if you will have me."

Eliwood raised one eyebrow but did not lower his blade. "For what purpose would you do so?"

Heath's reply was a quick one. "I am Heath, a wyvern rider under the command of Eubans. I heard that there were women and children among your group and while I am trying to fulfill my duties to my employer, I'm trying to be human too." Taking a gamble, he let his lance fall to the ground. "I will not fight you. If you do not believe what I say, then you are free to execute me in whichever way you see fit."

Eliwood thought for a moment. The battle raged around them and the two were forgotten by the others. Heath did notice, however, a blue haired knight holding a rather large and wicked-looking axe watching them intently. But the other did not interfere and shot Heath a dark look when their eyes met. If things with Eliwood took an undesirable turn, the wyvern rider knew who he would have to answer to.

At first, Heath did not think Eliwood would believe him. Then the man lowered his blade and spoke. "You do seem honorable enough. Not many could drop their weapon while surrounded by enemy soldiers. You are welcome to join us, though we are in the middle of a battle and I can't guarantee your safety."

Heath simply smiled and retrieved his lance. "I could ask for no more, Lord Eliwood. Commander Eubans has a lot to answer for and I'm just waiting for my chance to kill him. With this lance." Giving a nod to Eliwood and his still suspicious companion, Heath turned Hyperion to the south and ascended into the sky.

Heath wasted no time in setting out to accomplish what was needed. It was late afternoon by now and the sun was high overhead, beating down mercilessly upon those below. The crux of Eubans' army had been destroyed and all that remained was the commander's personal guard. Though he had steered clear of the main fight, Heath had seen Sealen brought down by one of the other Lycian Lords, Hector of Ostia, and Oswin, his general bodyguard. Heath did not feel any grief over the death of the nomad, for the man had been about as morally bankrupt as Eubans was. Surely Eubans knew that defeat was imminent and he should retreat before it was too late.

Abruptly Eubans' guard broke off to protect against an assault from the east. Then Heath made his move. Raising his lance, he urged Hyperion forward and charged straight at Eubans, one thought in his mind. Eubans saw the wyvern rider and brandished his weapon.

"Heath! You insolent cur! Have you decided to betray me?" His eyes flashed with anger and astonishment as Heath slowed and began to circle him. "You are a traitor, Heath. A deserter! You know nothing of honor!"

"I...No! I simply must live a life of which I am not ashamed." Heath's voice hardened. "I think I have finally found something worth fighting for. I will have nothing more to do with you and your monstrous tactics!"

Eubans laughed. "Ha ha...You're so naïve! You're no knight. And you're no mercenary, either, you dolt! You know nothing! You can carry your precious morals straight to the grave!"

Eubans charged at him and hurled his spear with surprising swiftness. Though the spear glanced his right arm, tearing through flesh and bone, Heath was faster still. Years of training in Bern's mountains had sharpened his reflexes. Brandishing _Salvatore _in his left hand, Heath closed the distance between the two of them in a matter of seconds and drove the lance home.

The spear point impaled Eubans in the unprotected section of his abdomen, the force of the attack throwing him off of his horse. He hit the ground, his spare weapon falling useless at his side. He sputtered, coughing up blood. Heath landed beside him, his bloodied lance hanging loosely in one hand.

"Damn you…" Eubans gasped. "I have…no regrets. Just because…I did things my way. My life…and death…are my own!" He shuddered one final time, and died.

Without Eubans or even Sealen to lead them, the remainder of the mercenary company turned and fled back into the trees. Eliwood and Hector chose not to pursue the fleeing soldiers, instead focusing on regrouping and tending to the wounded. Lord Eliwood approached Heath and congratulated him on a job well done, saying that he had proved his loyalty to their cause and was welcome to stay with them as long as he liked.

_That's only because you don't know the truth about me, _Heath thought dismally. Despite this, Heath acknowledged the commendation with a nod, stating that he would take Eliwood up on his offer.

Heath retreated inside the castle, wiping his lance clean of blood. He held up the weapon and looked longingly at it. A deserter's lance no longer, he told himself. _Salvatore _was no longer just the name of the lance. It had meaning again. The weapon had found a suitable purpose in life and with it, Heath had found his.

Dismounting, he applied a vulnerary and some salve to his wound, wrapping it in some spare cloth. It was a poor fix at best and he would need to find a healer to ensure that the wound didn't get infected.

Heath found a healer then, though not in the way he had expected. He was guiding Hyperion through the courtyard when he saw her tending to those who had been injured. She was deep in concentration, intently focused and staff gripped tightly in both hands as she performed her work. Heath kept walking, but his gaze was fixed upon her.

She must have sensed that he was looking at her, for when she was finished, she turned and looked directly at him. Their eyes met and Heath stopped dead in his tracks. She smiled at him then, brushing red hair from her eyes. The wyvern rider smiled back, realizing that he was blushing. His wound forgotten entirely, Heath continued on his way.

For the first time since he had left Bern, Heath felt something other than shame in his heart.


	4. Chapter 3: A Brief Meeting

**A Collision of Fates**

**Chapter Three: A Brief Meeting**

Heath awoke the next day at dawn and it took him a few moments to remember where he was. He was lying in a bed, a welcome feeling as opposed to the rough texture of a sleeping pad he was used to. He sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Slowly, the events of the previous day came back to him: the attack of Eubans' mercenary force on the castle, the conversation with Lord Eliwood and his battle with Eubans that ultimately ended the fight. The images were all too clear in his mind, as if no time had passed at all since their occurrence. As he mentally played yesterday's events, Heath smiled in satisfaction.

Jumping out of bed, he stretched out his muscles. The wound on his right arm still throbbed, but the pain had mostly subsided. Accrediting his training in Bern, Heath considered just how lucky he was to even be alive. He had slept surprisingly well that night, having turned in shortly after dinner had concluded. Strangely enough, the nightmares had not plagued him and for once he had been permitted a full night's rest. The room he was in was a relatively small one, with a single wooden door the only entrance. The sky was overcast and there was no sun to shine through the window at the other side of the room.

Presuming that he was not the only to be awake at this hour, Heath dressed and left the room. The daily routine of Eliwood's army was not much different than what he was used to, although the company appeared to be more laid back. Though his memory was a bit hazy as to where he was going, he tried to pick out specific landmarks that might lead him in the correct direction. Unfortunately for him, however, he became lost in a matter of minutes. Every turn he made led to a dead end and even when he retraced his steps he found himself in a corridor that he did not recognize. After wandering for what must have been more than ten minutes, he stopped and desperately tried to pick out his direction.

Just then, a boy emerged from a nearby room and stepped out into the corridor. He was wearing a mage's garment and a brown book was tucked underneath his left arm. His purple hair was tussled and unruly, running down over his ears and into his eyes. Upon seeing the distressed look on Heath's face, he raised one eyebrow quizzically.

"Are you lost?" the boy asked. It wasn't so much a question as a statement of fact. Heath could tell that the boy was reading him, trying to find out Heath's intentions. He looked familiar; Heath had seen him the day before. What was his name…Eric? Igor?

"Yes, I suppose I am lost," Heath replied, still unable to remember the boy's name. "I'm trying to find my way down to the mess hall. Could you show me the way?"

The boy sighed. "Well, I _guess _I could show you the way. But it's not too hard to find in the first place."

Already Heath didn't care for the boy. He made everything sound so obvious and when questioned on something, he gave the impression of annoyance and he was wasting his time. Despite his small stature, the boy was attempting to measure up to Heath and prove himself superior. If he was trying to unnerve Heath, it was working.

"Well?" The boy was growing impatient. "Do you want me to show you the way or not? We don't have all day to be standing around like this." Heath nodded and boy started down the hall immediately with the wyvern rider at his heels.

"I'm Erk, by the way," the boy said as they continued walking. He didn't offer his hand in greeting and kept a swift, steady pace. "I'm apprenticed in the magic arts to Count Reglay, Lord Pent of Etruria." He looked at Heath. "You're new here, aren't you?"

Heath hesitated. "Yeah," he said finally. "I spoke with Lord Eliwood yesterday during the battle. I was originally employed to the enemy commander but I decided that more honest work was in store for me."

Erk immediately became suspicious. "You're an ex-mercenary? That's interesting. I simply figured you knew somebody within the camp and joined up because of them. Why would Lord Eliwood hire you? We have no need for mercenaries in this army."

Heath was taken aback by the boy's bluntness. Erk clearly had no problem calling things how he saw them. "There's no need to be rude. I do believe I already proved that-"

"Oh!" Erk's cry interrupted him. "You must be the wyvern rider the killed the enemy commander and ended the fight yesterday. What's your name?"

"Heath," the other replied. Since he was undoubtedly still being hunted, Heath still felt uncomfortable about giving his true name. But there was nothing to help about it now. He couldn't just lie about his name. Already Eliwood and so many of the others knew it.

"How did you end up becoming a mercenary and coming here?"

Heath hesitated again. "I'm…I was part of an envoy from Bern en route to Pherae," he lied. "We became embroiled in a battle with bandits and I was separated from my comrades. I'd been searching for them for two weeks when I joined up with Eubans' company. I'd been traveling with them ever since." It was the same story he had told Eliwood yesterday and while it was a poor excuse at best, it was all he had.

"Mm." Erk looked off to his right. Heath could already feel the tension building between the two of them. Heath wasn't too fond of the boy and his attitude. He sort of flaunted himself as he walked and to Heath, he came across as a bit conceited. Erk was naturally suspicious of Heath's story and intentions. The mage clearly didn't believe the wyvern rider and Heath knew the boy would eventually do some investigating of his own.

By now they had arrived at the central part of the castle, the corridor they had been walking through emptying out into a large chamber. Heath had not even realized they were there until he was practically inside the room. He had no idea how he had even gotten there and he inwardly chastised himself for not paying better attention. Despite the earliness of the hour, the room was filled with talkative people sitting at large wooden tables and eating breakfast. He figured that this was a rare occurrence in any case, oppurtunities such as this few and far between.

Most all of the faces before him were familiar by now. Heath had either been introduced and introduced himself to most everyone by now, mostly of the former and hardly any of the latter. He spotted the green-haired cavalier Sain chatting rather loudly with a light blue-haired girl in a pegasus knight's uniform. Kent, his red haired companion, sat next to him with his hands buried in his face and shaking his head in disgust.

Then there was the always cheery and sociable archer Wil, talking frantically to any at his table that would listen. The three axmen Dorcas, Bartre and Dart were talking amongst themselves at a nearby table while the two swordsmen Guy and Raven debated heatedly over who was the better fighter. Canas and Rebecca talked quietly at Wil's table, actively ignoring the archer's continuous rants on various subjects. Lord Eliwood stood off in a corner speaking with Hector and a few of the Ostian knights.

Yet there was one person to whom Heath had not been formally introduced. She sat by herself at a table in the corner of the room, secluded away from everyone else and eating quietly. It was the same girl whose elegance had captivated him the day before when their eyes had met. Every now and then she would brush red hair from her eyes and turn the page on the book she was reading.

Heath turned to Erk. "Who is that there in the corner?"

Erk, who had been preoccupied with talking to a rather noisy cleric, turned. "What?" Heath repeated the question and indicated in the girl's direction.

"Oh, that's Priscilla," Erk replied. "She's from Etruria but she's originally from Ostia. I'm her escort and we joined up with the army when we were passing through Laus, just before we left for the Dread Isle. She's a very lovely girl but being as you're new Heath, I would advise against simply walking up to her and speaking with her." There was a hint of warning in his voice and he turned back to the girl he had been previously speaking with.

"Priscilla…" He should go over and talk to her, he told himself, despite what Erk had said. His heart throbbed at the prospect of doing so. Just as a formality, nothing more. He would simply approach her to get better acquainted. Those were the fundamentals of engaging in conversation, were they not? He had done so with everyone else in the army already, so it shouldn't be hard to talk with one more person.

Then his common sense took over and his thoughts abruptly changed. What he was proposing to himself was that he add more risk to his already precarious situation. Doing something that would undoubtedly single him out and draw attention was completely absurd. In fact, it bordered on ludicrous. No one here knew who he truly was and he fully intended to keep it that way. The truth had died with Eubans and perhaps even Sealen as well. Three could keep a secret if two of them were dead, as the old saying went. Heath had already risked enough when Lady Lyndis had introduced him to just about everyone in the army. It was fortunate that very few of them cared about him, in any case. Erk was obviously suspicious, but from what Heath had seen about the mage it was in Erk's nature to feel that way. Of everybody else in the army, only Kent appeared to show any particular interest in him. Kent had already shown a keen interest in Heath's role as a wyvern knight, having seen Hyperion and him the day before. Heath had absolutely no idea why the Caelin cavalier should even care about a vagabond such as Heath, being as he had too many other things to worry about.

Heath ran his hand through the white patch in his hair in frustration. It wasn't as if he completely abhorred conversation with other people, it was the fact that he had never been very good at speaking with others. He had always been more quiet and reserved as a boy, uncomfortable around other people. This feeling had stayed with him throughout the years and become one of the core workings of his mind. He had always worked better alone anyways and other people simply got in the way. Compounding all of this with his determination to keep his secret, there should be no reason for him to even talk to Priscilla.

And yet, as he continued to stare at the red haired troubadour in wonder, a nagging insistence was tugging at his heart. There was something...strange about her. What was it about her that held him back? She almost looked familiar and suddenly Heath realized that she reminded him of his mother. She had the same color of eyes and hair as his mother. Heath's mother had died when Heath was barely five years old but Heath still held some memories of her. Priscilla's form and posture reminded Heath greatly of his mother's own.

But he needed to do something; he couldn't just stand there and let the opportunity pass.

Before he could think better or even worse of it, Heath swallowed his doubts and fears and moved forward. He could feel his legs shaking as he weaved through the tables toward where Priscilla sat. The banter from the tables around him was loud and almost deafening, threatening to drown out his thoughts. He took a deep breath to steady himself. Why was he so nervous, anyway? He was just going to talk to her, after all. It should be no different than it had been with anybody else.

As he neared her, he noticed something about her he had failed to notice before. She was slightly turned in his direction while staring down at the book on the table. Her face was calm and youthful, with a look of innocence about it. Bright green eyes scanned the pages of the book with inquisitive determination.

_She's…just a girl, _Heath thought to himself in surprise. Sure, he hadn't gotten a closer look at her the other day but he had just assumed that she was roughly his age. No, she had to be at least a few years younger than himself. No older than sixteen or seventeen, he guessed. There was nothing wrong with that, of course, it just surprised him was all.

_Just a girl, _he repeated in his mind, _no younger than those I was ordered to- _His thoughts cut off abruptly. No, he would not allow himself to be further haunted than what had transpired in Bern all those weeks ago. That was all in the past and he had sworn never to think about it again. Dwelling on the past would only make things worse for him later. Before he knew it was standing at the side of the table. Deciding to drop the formalities, he sat in a wooden chair across the table from her. If she was actively ignoring him, he failed to notice.

"Hello," he said in a voice that was barely audible, even to him.

Priscilla looked up. "Oh, hello!" The same warm smile she had displayed before spread across her face. Her voice was soft and feminine. "Is there something I can help you with?" She pushed the book aside.

"No, I just thought I'd introduce myself was all," Heath responded, his voice firmer this time. "My…my name is Heath." He extended his hand in greeting.

"My name is Priscilla. Well met, Heath." She took his hand her own, the fingers small and frail. "Are you the wyvern knight that joined us yesterday? Lord Eliwood spoke of you."

"Indeed I am," Heath replied. "I know that you must have your own suspicions about me since I am an ex-mercenary. I do know that certain individuals here already have their doubts about me." Heath glanced over in Erk's direction, who was now sitting at Wil's table.

Priscilla saw the look and shook her head. "I wouldn't worry too much him. It is in Erk's nature to question those he does not know very well. Give him some time and he'll come around. And I believe you proved yourself when you killed the enemy commander yesterday. I can't fault you for saving us. You must be a man of great honor and integrity, Sir Heath."

"I…uh…thanks." Heath wasn't used to being addressed so formally and it caught him slightly off guard. Even so, he maintained his composure. "When Eubans ordered me to kill innocent women and children, I simply couldn't abide it anymore. I do have my own morals, after all. He was single-minded and unethical and I couldn't let him live so could continue to exploit others for his own personal gain."

"Well, no matter your reasons I'm glad you-oh!"

Her cry startled him. "Priscilla? What is it?"

She pointed at his right arm. "Sir Heath, you're bleeding! There, on your arm!"

Heath looked at his arm. He had completely forgotten about the wound. Sure enough, there was blood seeping through his clothing, most likely from his blood pressure rising due to his nervousness. In his haste after the battle he had not found a healer to examine the wound properly.

Priscilla reached across the table and pulled back his sleeve and probed the flesh with her fingers. Even at the softness of her touch, Heath winced in pain. The bandaging he had applied had come loose and failed to maintain pressure on the gash in his arm. It was bleeding more profusely now than he thought.

"It's going to get infected," Priscilla stated a matter-of-factly. She examined the wound more closely. "Did this happen during the battle yesterday?"

"Yeah, it did. I mended it myself and I figured it would be fine as long as I left it alone."

She raised an eyebrow and smiled at him. "You're something, you know that Sir Heath? You don't have much experience in the way of healing, do you? No matter the size of the wound, you can't simply just leave it alone."

She leaned back into her chair. "Would you like me to mend it for you? I can go up to my room and get my staff, if you would like."

Heath smiled. "I would be honored, Lady Priscilla."

"Very well, then." She rose to her feet and Heath rose with her. "You should get something to eat before hand, though. Meet me in the courtyard afterwards and I will fix that right up for you!" With that, she retrieved her book from the table and was gone from the dining hall in an instant.

Heath stared after her for several minutes after that, not quite wanting to believe that she was gone. Their conversation had been short and nothing special but it left him wanting more. He could see her warm smile in his mind and her warm touch still lingered on his hand. It was a strange feeling; no one else in the army had affected him in such a way. So gentle and kind in both voice and demeanor. Yes, she reminded him much of his mother. Heath was surprised at the kindness Priscilla had exhibited to him without a second thought. It apparently didn't matter to her that he was new and a complete stranger. Heath shrugged. Maybe most healers were like that, truly only concerned with ensuring the well-being of the army's soldiers. Heath lingered at the spot for a moment longer before wandering off toward the other end of the mess hall to find something to eat.

_Priscilla…_

He couldn't wait to see her again.


	5. Chapter 4: The Desert

**A Collision of Fates**

**Chapter Four: The Desert**

Eliwood's army continued the day as it always had, embracing its somewhat laid back nature and set out to the west by midmorning. The day was clear, the winds calm and the sky free of clouds. Lord Uther had suggested that they head to the Nabata Desert in search of a supposed "Living Legend." Many of the company were less than thrilled at the prospect of suffering from heat flashes for several days at a time but there was no public show of distaste. They had trusted Eliwood thus far and knew that his decisions were not made lightly. Their path was unobstructed as they left Ostia and trekked southwest, skirting the southeastern face of the mountains. Crossing the river at midday, Eliwood announced that they would reach the mountain pass by nightfall and cross into the desert the following morning.

As he had done in Eubans' army, Heath flew at the army's head, scouting out the road ahead for any potential ambushes. The work was far more crucial this time, since the three Lycian Lords were still being hunted by the Black Fang and its associates. Heath had hoped that his duties would shift to a different field of work. It seemed that there was not much further use for a wyvern rider when there was no fighting to be done. He was not alone this time, however. Fiora, the somewhat reckless but serene pegasus knight from Ilia, flew next to him at his right. Although she was intently focused on her duties, she flew over next to him every so often to engage in casual conversation. Though he preferred to be left alone most of the time, Heath welcomed her presence and was glad to have something to make the job less dull.

Eliwood's predictions proved to be accurate ones. The army arrived at the mountain pass at dusk, coming down out of the foothills and into the valley below. The pass had the look of open mouth, the mountains to either side its teeth. Several of the jagged peaks to northwest and southwest rose higher than the ones adjacent to the pass, giving it a more menacing appearance. It was, thusly named, the pass known as the Maw. Sweaty and exhausted, the army was glad to set foot upon flatter ground again.

The army settled directly in the middle of the pass between the mountains, getting as close to the edge of the desert as it could. With aid from Oswin and Kent, the paladin Marcus began setting up camp while the rest of the army began pitching their tents around the center. Deciding to risk a fire this night, Marcus sent out for firewood and had a blaze going in minutes. Heath guided Hyperion to the ground and landed down at the outer edge of the army, both grateful to move about and stretch their cramped muscles. Heath sent Hyperion into the woods surrounding the camp and had his tent pitched in under a minute and a half, a new personal best for him. Even small things like that kept a man sane when he was constantly on the move and fighting day in and day out.

He began to sift through the camp, not really looking for anything in particular. He recognized everyone's face by now, where they were from and why they were there in the first place. Most had some obligation to fill to Eliwood, Hector or Lyn, although some had their own secret reasons for being there, reasons they would disclose to very few. Heath took a mental note of the systematic fashion the tents were set up in, the three tents of the Lycian Lords set around the fire and those closet to them surrounding. From there on out it was completely random, the remainder of the army setting up in whichever way they saw fit.

After awhile, Heath attempted to look for Priscilla as indiscreetly as possible, not wanting to attract attention to himself. But after looking for several minutes, however, he could not seem to find her anywhere. He thought about asking someone if they had seen her, but figured it would arouse suspicion if he did. Eventually he gave up his search and volunteered to take the first watch. Sitting alone outside the camp, he lost himself in thoughts of his own, glad to have some time to himself. At midnight he was relieved by Wil and retired to his tent without a word.

At the crack of dawn Marcus and Oswin were filtering through the camp to arouse the rest of the army. Apparently Eliwood wanted whatever business he had with the desert done with as soon as possible. Heath had not slept well at all that night due to the fact that the nightmares had surfaced once again. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and proceeded to dismantle his tent. Never again would he volunteer for first watch. In less than an hour, the camp was broken down and the army had pressed into the desert.

Heath had never been to the desert, let alone even seen one. In all his years as a wyvern knight, he had never ventured this far south and west for that matter. He stared down in fascination at the endless sands dunes, moving like waves in the ocean. Tiny sand particles were picked up by the wind and whisked away, only to be deposited on the other side of the dune. The desert stretched on for miles and miles and Heath couldn't see an end to it in any direction. How anyone could live in this forsaken place was beyond his own understanding. He looked below to find that the others were having difficulty maintaining decent footing in the sand. The ones on horseback were having the most trouble, their mounts possessing less sure footing in environments such as this. Heath counted his blessings for simply being able to glide above the sands.

Nevertheless, the group pressed on through the sands in a general southwesterly direction, presumably toward the center of the desert. Progress slowed considerably and many had to frequently stop to rest. Though they had barely gained a foothold on the desert, the mountains behind them had disappeared entirely, leaving towering sand dunes in their wake. Sweltering heat sapped the energy out of their bodies within minutes and left them physically drained. Heat rising off of the sands created mirages designed to tease and torture any who mistook them for reality. The wind that blew was hot and far from comforting.

The day dragged on and still there was no sign of this "Living Legend" that Lord Uther had spoke of. By midday, it was as hot as it had ever been all day. Water supplies were rapidly being depleted and the army's morale slowly began to waver. Several voiced their discomfort openly, vainly hoping that Eliwood would change his mind and go back. Despite all of this, however, the Pheraean noble remained determined to see things through to the end.

Then, finally, they arrived at their first dilemma. Dark shapes began to take form on the land in front of them, their movements indicating that they were not a part of the desert. At first, Heath thought it was a mirage and that the desert was playing tricks on him. Deciding to make an inquiry, Heath urged Hyperion forward. Fiora was on his left, her eyes mirroring his own. Maybe there _was _someone out here after all. They drew close enough to the shapes to discover that they were indeed human, but there was something wrong here. They were all facing in the same direction, weapons pointed to one spot in the sand.

Heath recognized the situation immediately. "Bandits!" He said the word as if were a curse. They were advancing on a lone figure dressed in a mage's garment to the southwest. The figure appeared to be carrying rather large and heavy, struggling to maintain his balance as he prepared to hold against the attack. It would not be enough, Heath knew. He wheeled Hyperion around and flew back in the direction of the army. Fiora was already far ahead him. By the time Heath returned to the army, she had already relayed the information to Eliwood and they were moving in earnest to the west. Eventually they reached the bandits and found a rare patch of more solid earth, spreading out to mount their attack.

The attack began immediately as the bandits rushed to meet the new threat. Hector, as always, led the charge, flanked to either side by Oswin and Bartre. Eliwood and Lyn headed to the southwest with Wil and Rebecca as cover as they advanced on the figure to the southwest. Sain, in the company of Lucius and Raven, headed northwest and more stable ground in attempt to flank the enemy. Kent charged up the middle with Canas trailing behind him.

Heath, too, flew toward the crux of the battle, hoping that was where whoever commanded these forces would be there. For whatever reason, he felt the need to be at the core of the battle, not simply relying on guerilla warfare as his chief tactic. Taking careful note of the archers around him, he dived down into the dunes, impaling anyone who got too close. His newly acquired axereaver minimized any risk he might face from axe wielders. Flying close every now and again, he shielded Canas from any potential threats, allowing Kent to rush in and dispose of the enemy. Everywhere Heath looked the battle was progressing favorably, the bandits not nearly as skilled as he originally presumed. Strength in numbers counted for close in nothing in the face of superior skill and fighting ability. The battle seemed to have rekindled the army's spirits and given them a reason to keep going.

But this occurrence was short lived. Not long after the battle had started enemy reinforcements began flooding in from the west, a staggeringly skilled combination of axe wielders and mages, the latter consisting of both anima and dark. Rushing to the aid of their comrades by sliding furtively through the sand dunes they caught Eliwood's army completely off guard. In the face of this fresh onslaught, Eliwood's troops faltered slightly and all advancement farther into the sand was halted in moments. Their ranks began to fall apart as the enemy wormed their way behind the lines and struck seemingly out of nowhere before disappearing once again into the sands. Eventually the army's defense crumbled entirely and was scattered around the battlefield, vainly trying to regroup to the east.

Heath became separated from Kent and Canas as several more archers moved to the front lines, ascending skyward to exceed the range of their bows. Their arrows passed far too close and Heath risked losing his balance as he jerked Hyperion sharply to the left and right. He was eventually able to slip away but in doing so he left Kent at the mercy of several shamans, dark magic disappearing into the sand only to emerge moments later. The gallant cavalier held out as long as he could before being struck twice by the magic, forcing him to retreat. There was no sign of Canas or anybody else. Things had rapidly taken a turn for the worse and if the army wasn't able to regroup, it risked suffering major casualties or even defeat.

Yet, by a stroke of luck perhaps, Heath found the enemy leader. Or least the one he presumed to be the leader. A warrior wielding an axe was tucked back between two bone piles to the northwest on noticeably flatter ground. The man was shouting out orders to the bandits around him, he himself not moving into the fray. He was oblivious to Heath flying above him and had his back turned to the wyvern rider. Seizing his chance, Heath hoisted the axereaver in his right hand and sent Hyperion into a nosedive.

He must have misjudged the distance between himself and the nearest sand dune, for when he went down, Hyperion's legs brushed against the top of dune. The impact jarred Heath enough that the axereaver slipped from his fingers and was lost in the sand below. Heath let out a cry of frustration and reached back for _Salvatore._

The warrior must have heard him, for the man turned around and hoisted his axe. Heath was only inches from the ground by now and it was too late to pull out of the dive. He attempted to veer Hyperion to the right and avoid the imminent attack, but he knew he would be too slow. The axe swept down, catching Heath on his left side. The metal ripped through flesh, bone, and armor, as well as the scales of Hyperion's torso. The wyvern roared in anger and pain racketed Heath's body, blood flowing freely down his side and leg. The warrior was right behind him. He knew he was finished.

"HEATH!"

Heath turned his head slightly to the left as Hyperion continued to drift right and out of the corner of his eye he saw Bartre sliding the nearest sand dune, axe held tightly in both hands. _Where did he come from? _Heath thought in astonishment. It didn't matter, in any case. He may very well be spared his judgment and live to fight another day. The fighter's cry was bloodcurdling and sent chills down Heath's spine. The enemy warrior turned to face the new threat just as Bartre collided with him. The two went down in a flurry of sand, limbs and weapons, rolling through the nearest bone pile and plunging into the sand.

Heath never saw what happened next. Hyperion barely made it over the next sand dune before losing all strength and struck the ground, throwing Heath from his saddle. The wyvern rider landed spread-eagled on the ground and it felt as though all the air had been blasted out of him. The sand should have cushioned his fall, but it felt as though he had landed on solid rock. Screaming in pain, he rolled onto his back and put his hand to his side to determine just how back he was hurt. Blood covered his entire leg and abdomen, the sticky red liquid slowly seeping into the sand. Hyperion lay motionless to his right and he could feel the blood gushing out from his leg and torso. A red haze clouded his vision and he could barely see anything at all. He could only feel the pain in his side and leg and the sun's heat bearing down on him.

_This is where I'm going to die, _Heath thought dismally. _Ah, it was a miserable life at best. What more to expect than a miserable end? _He was losing far too much blood to sustain himself and in a matter of minutes he would gone. Bartre's sacrifice would be wasted. He couldn't even force himself to move and search out help. The army was scattered across the desert and no one would come to aid him. He would die alone, carrying his shame and morals straight to the grave, just as Eubans said he would. Heath closed his eyes and waited for death to claim him.

A voice rang out in the silence. "Kent! I found him! He's over here!"

He knew that voice. It sounded so familiar, but at the same time entirely foreign and distant. Who did it belong to? He searched through his mind but could find nothing.

Then Priscilla was beside him, calling his name and asking if he was all right. Heath tried to answer but the only sounds that came out of his mouth were a faint rasp and a wheezing cough. He opened his eyes and through the red haze of blood he could see Priscilla's slender form kneeling beside him, mend staff gripped tightly in both hands. A tingling feeling shot through his leg and side, causing him to convulse slightly. The haze dissipated slightly and was instead replaced by a general blurring of his vision and he felt himself slowly slipping into unconsciousness.

Priscilla's soft hand touched his forehead. "You're burning up, Heath. Please, stay with us a little longer. Help is on the way, you just need to be strong." Her fingers slid between his and gripped his hand tightly. There was a shuffling in the sand to his right and someone else knelt beside him. Hands slid under his back and lifted him off the sand and began to bear him away.

The last thing Heath remembered before slipping into unconsciousness was Priscilla's hand still in his and her soothing voice assuring him that everything was going to be alright.


	6. Chapter 5: Feelings

**A Collision of Fates**

**Chapter Five: Feelings**

For an indeterminable period of time, Heath drifted in and out of consciousness. Cold and darkness settled in around him, gripping his body entirely and sending him into fits and spasms as he attempted to shake them off. He could hear voices speaking to him from within the blackness that enveloped him, but they were faint and indiscernible of origin. Their words were jumbled and impossible to comprehend but their tones were undoubtedly concerned.

Then the black void brightened slightly and shadowy forms surrounded him, moving both towards and away from him, never remaining in one particular place for very long. He felt himself being carried by one of the forms and several others surrounded him and kept pace. Heath could not tell who they were or what they were about, only that their movements were frantic and hurried. Shouts arose from all around him and he heard the clashing of weapons. Whoever was carrying him veered off in the opposite direction, away from whatever battle was taking place.

The darkness returned then, the dark forms disippating into a black mist and their voices fading into the distance. Instead images appeared, materializing in the air around him. They were strikingly vivid and filled the area around Heath. Past events from his life replayed themselves over and over in stunning detail, sharp and colorful. All of his shame, pride and arrogance were thrown in at once. First came the disturbing massacres that had occurred in deep within the mountains weeks ago. Only this time Heath was a spectator as he watched dozens of innocent civilians slaughtered in their homes, towns and fields by wyvern knights, their life's blood spilling into the streets. Heath watched his own unit come in attempt to stop the murders, only to have the other knights turn against these so-called "traitors" to the realm and attack them. Heath's unit fled and the image faded.

The next several images that followed were hazy and indistinct but there nonetheless. Standing in the middle of them, Heath watched them take shape. They appeared to be stacked on top of one another, all happening at the same time. Blending in with one another, they faded in and out without warning, never staying for more than a few moments. The beginning of one event may play, fade out, and then reappear to close out at a different time and place. Everything came at him at once with such speed that he had trouble discerning one occurrence from the next. The events played out in a routine fashion, each playing in chronological order. Heath saw himself the day he first became a wyvern knight, all of those years ago in the palace. He felt the pride he had possessed back then, as well as the invincibility that had eventually betrayed him in the end. All of the times he had served as an escort for envoys to other nations, his battle with Eubans in Ostia and his conversation with Priscilla were all there as well, relayed in stunning detail. Finally came the battle in the desert and his subsequent defeat at the hands of the bandits' commander. He could still feel the pain in his body as the metal ripped through him and Hyperion both, threatening to cut short his meager existence…

Finally he could take no more. He had been pushed to his emotional breaking point, every bit of determination he had once possessed chased away into the shadows like leaves blown away in the wind. He fell to his knees and gripped his hair so tightly that he could feel the strands of hair being pulled from his scalp. The images danced around him and he pleaded for them to stop, trying to shun away their taunting words. Even when he closed his eyes and covered his ears, he could still see and hear them. They were there, slowly siphoning away his resolve to drive him into complete insanity.

Abandoning any attempt to maintain his composure, Heath lost himself entirely and vented his rage and frustration in a loud, endless scream, wanting only for the pain to stop. His only thought was why he should live and suffer when death should rightfully come to claim him and grant him release.

X

"Is he okay?"

"I don't know. He's been thrashing around like that for hours. I think he's having some kind nightmare or something."

"His condition hasn't improved at all since this afternoon?"

"Not much, all things considered. His fever finally broke but he only recently he's started crying out and having spasms. I don't know what's wrong with him. I healed his wounds and stopped the bleeding, but he may be hurt in ways we can't see. I fear he may be fighting some kind of internal injury."

"Hmm…perhaps we'd better have Lord Pent take a look at him…"

Heath opened his eyes then, stirred awake by the sounds of the voices around him, bringing him out of his nightmare-induced sleep. The sands and blistering heat of the desert were gone and he was lying on a cold stone floor and he had no idea where he was. Reaching up to brush the hair from his eyes, he noticed that Kent and Priscilla were staring down at him.

The latter of the two was the first to react. "Heath!" She bent down and knelt next to him. "Are you all right? How do you feel?" Her voice was filled with both concern and relief and Heath couldn't tell which was more prominent.

"I feel as though I just got kicked in the head by a wyvern," Heath responded, putting his hand to his forehead. His head throbbed terribly and he squinted hard in a futile attempt to chase the pain away. "The last thing I remember was that I was lying in the sands after Hyperion went down…" Heath suddenly panicked and sat up a bit too quickly. "Wait! Hyperion! Where is he? Is he okay?"

Kent moved forward and took a knee beside him, pushing him back to the floor. "Take it easy, Heath. Don't push yourself too hard now and cause permanent injury. Your wyvern's fine. Priscilla treated his wounds shortly after we found you and he's resting now. You can rest easy."

Heath sighed. "That's a relief…" He turned to face Priscilla. "Thank you, Priscilla. I was afraid he may have been hurt worse than I when he crashed in the desert. I'm lucky that I wasn't more seriously injured."

"You're lucky to be alive is what you are," Priscilla scolded, the compassion disappearing from her voice instantly. "What were you thinking, anyway? Do you even fully remember what happened and why you're alive? Bartre saved your life after you blindly charged at the bandit leader. It's incredibly foolish to just go charging into enemy lines without any regard for your own personal safety. Didn't anyone ever teach you not be so reckless with your own life? Had Kent and I not found you when we did you would have died in a matter of minutes!" Her voice had become very stern, as if she were scolding a young child.

Heath was slightly taken aback by here sudden change in attitude. "I simply thought to end the battle as quickly as possible," he started. "I didn't think that-"

"You weren't thinking at all, that's what," Priscilla interrupted. "Well, you may have been, but you were only thinking of yourself. No one in this army is expendable, Heath. We all have a purpose for being here, whether you see it or not. What good is an army if its soldiers are viewed as "replaceable"? Weapons and supplied can be replenished, but a lost life cannot. You would do well to remember that, Heath." Her voice had softened slightly but Heath could still hear the strictness in her voice.

Suddenly Priscilla grabbed his left hand and her face drew close to his. She looked him squarely in the eyes and Heath thought he could see the faint glimmer of a tear in one of them. "We almost lost you, Heath. I don't know if you fully understand just how close to death you really were. As I said, no one in this army is expendable, no matter who or how experienced." Her voice lowered to a whisper. "The loss of any one life can come as a great blow, especially if that person is a friend. Promise me, Heath. Promise me that you won't so rashly endanger your life ever again."

Heath kept her piercing gaze, not daring to look away, even for a second. Their faces were only inches away from each other, hers hovering directly over his. Heath's eyes remained locked on hers, trying to uncover whatever hidden truth she kept concealed behind them. Priscilla was hiding something from him, he suspected that much. But what was it she was hiding from him? She had purposely avoided telling how she had found him in the first place, so perhaps that was it. Yet why would she refrain from telling him that? She had clearly found him solely by chance and that was all there was to it. He decided that he was reading too much into things and simply being paranoid.

He gripped her hand tighter and forced a smile. "I promise." Suddenly he remembered the initial reason why he was even alive in the first place. "And what of Bartre? What happened to him?" Heath remembered how the fighter had so rashly gambled with _his _own life just to save Heath's hide.

"He used your idiotic attack as a diversion," Kent replied, with a small smile on his face. "The bandit you had charged after happened to be one leaders. Bartre literally tore him to pieces after colliding with him. The enemy began to lose the will to fight after that and we were able to regroup and drive them back. You could say that Bartre did it because he wanted to save your life, Heath, but I think that he would have done it for anybody else as well. Bartre isn't one to be deterred once the fighting starts. Trying to stop him would be tantamount to trying to stop a stampede of raging buffalo with a wooden shield. There's no doubt that he saved your life and kept that bandit from finishing you off, Heath. You might want to thank him for that later."

Heath nodded, laughing slightly at Kent's comparison. "I'll be sure to do that." He looked at his surroundings, realizing that he had absolutely no idea where he was at. The stone walls and the dampness in the air were a shocking surprise, considering he had been in the middle of a desert mere hours ago, the blistering heat of the sun bearing down on him. "Where are we anyway? Nothing here looks remotely familiar."

"That's a good question," Priscilla responded, backing away but not letting go of his hand. "None of us here know where we're at. The battled ended shortly after you went down and we were regrouping when something strange happened. One moment we were in the desert and then the next we were here. It was almost as if we were sucked into the sand one by one and brought to this place. But-"

"But it gets even stranger," Kent cut in. "There's a battle being fought right now elsewhere within this place. Somehow the enemy found out that we were here and ambushed us. But the strangest thing is not the battle or even how they got here in the first place, but the enemy's commander. Its very presence nullifies all use of magic and renders any healer or mage powerless in battle. We felt it once before on Valor, and it didn't just nullify our magic, it left the enemy magic users powerless as well. Fighting it is going to be difficult, not to mention dangerous." The sounds of battle could be heard down the corridor not far from where the three were at.

"Well, regardless, I'm going to see of what help I can be," Priscilla said, rising to her feet. "The range of this "magic seal" doesn't seem to cover the entire area, so I may be of some help after all." She retreated to the far wall to retrieve her staff and when she turned back to Heath, she smiled. "Try and get some rest, Sir Heath. I'll be back to check on you later." With that, she headed back down the corridor.

Heath stared after her until she was lost from sight down the hallway, filled with complete astonishment. _The loss of any one life can come as a great blow, especially if that person is a friend, _Priscilla had whispered to him. This puzzled him. Did she really consider him to be a friend to her? They had only met several days ago and were nothing more than acquaintances at best. But she had said the words in a way that they were meant to be directed at him specifically, not in a general sense of the meaning. She had practically paralyzed him when she had grabbed his hand and looked into his eyes. It had given Heath feelings he had not ever experienced before, though he could not figure out exactly which ones they were.

"I know what you're thinking, Heath," Kent said suddenly after Priscilla was out of earshot, turning to face Heath.

"Oh really?" Heath responded disdainfully, slightly annoyed that the other had so quickly interrupted his thoughts. He didn't bother to hide the contemptuousness in his voice. "What exactly am I thinking then, Kent? Last I checked, no one here can read minds."

Despite Heath's tone, Kent's voice was even. "I don't have to be a mind reader know what you're thinking, Heath. It's fairly obvious when you consider all that's happened. First of all, you're wondering why you're even alive. Your injuries were severe enough that you would have died had you not received immediate attention. You're also wondering how it was Priscilla that found you in the desert so quickly, being as you went down far out of reach of anybody nearby. Am I right?"

"Very well, won't deny it," Heath said, letting out a heavy sigh. He shifted his position to lean up against the wall behind him. "How _did _you find me in the middle of the desert, anyway?"

"Like I said, your thanks belong to someone else, not I," Kent replied, folding his arms across his chest.

"Oh, was it Priscilla that found me?" Heath raised an eyebrow. "My memory of what happened is so vague that I can barely remember anything. How did she find me then?"

Kent grunted. "Isn't it obvious? I thought you would have figured it out by now. She followed you for almost the entire battle, Heath! You could ask just about anyone who was a part of that skirmish and they would tell you that the minute you took off, Priscilla raced after you the best she could, struggling to keep her horse's balance in the sand. I don't know why she did it, but Priscilla abandoned any other obligation she thought she owed to the rest of the army to trail after you without being spotted by you or the enemy. You were so focused on fighting that you never did see her when she was no more than twenty yards back, watching your every move. I happened to see her once, but only after I was driven off by those shamans."

Heath was incensed. That's what she had been hiding from him! "You can't be serious, Kent!" he exclaimed. "Why in the world would she do something like that? Priscilla isn't the one to purposely put herself in harm's way and risk getting killed! She just lectured me on the same thing a few minutes ago! With the sole exception of Serra, Priscilla is the only healer we have in this army. She has no right to gamble with her life in such a way!" With painstaking effort, Heath rose to his feet. "I'm going to go and talk to her."

"No, Heath! You can't do that!" Kent intercepted him before the wyvern rider could take two steps and pushed him back against the wall. "Control yourself. You will only cause more problems! You heard what Priscilla said. She's going back to the battle and you're hurt Heath. You can't just go traipsing around the battlefield for your own selfish desires. Take it from me, Heath. I've fought many battles in or around Caelin and I've seen countless injured knights take to the field and not last two minutes. Many of them could barely muster the strength to lift a weapon or even walk. Yet they took to the battlefield anyway. Their foolish pride wouldn't allow them to think otherwise. Instead, they were forced to be transported by other knights and became a burden, slowing down progress. Because of this, those delusional men, the ones who considered themselves as "brave", were not only responsible for their own deaths, but the as well as the deaths of the ones who supported them."

Kent backed away and turned around, clasping his hands behind his back. "I've seen how you fight and behave on the battlefield, Heath. You're no simpleton. You are very skilled at what you do and a smart fighter. But please, use your common sense. Do not allow brash decisions and emotions to get in the way of what's truly important. For the time being, you've lost the ability to fight and you'll only prove as a distraction to the others. These distractions could possibly prove fatal to others. How would you feel if you were the one responsible for the death of another, Heath?"

"Actually Kent, I believe I already know how that-" Upon realizing what he was saying, Heath cut his words short and immediately drew silent. The other did not turn around or even respond, yet Heath knew what Kent was thinking. He had said too much already. He could not afford to be so careless with his words.

"I suppose you're right," Heath said, sagging back against the wall. "But none of this explains why Priscilla did and said the things she did. I don't know what to think about her now. One minute she's nothing but concerned for me and the next she's reprimanding me for being careless. She transitioned between the two so abruptly that I can't decide what she truly feels towards me." He folded his arms across his chest and snorted. "Maybe she doesn't even like me at all."

"Don't be so sure of yourself, Heath," Kent spoke up, not bothering to turn around and face him. "Perhaps you're not looking at things clearly enough. Words have a way of being deceitful and forcing us to think differently. Regardless of what you think Heath, you're wrong in your assumption of Priscilla's feelings toward you. As a matter of fact, she thinks very highly of you."

Heath was surprised. "Really? Why would she think that way about me, anyway? I've almost gotten myself killed twice due to my own foolishness and both times it was her that had to come and help me when I couldn't help myself. I hate that she feels that she has to tag along after me and put herself at risk just to make sure I don't end up killing myself."

This time Kent turned around before speaking to him. "Would you like to hear my thoughts on the matter, Heath? She does it because she wants to, not because she feels that she has to. Priscilla cares about you, I know that much at least. Something about you interests her in a way that nothing else does. Maybe it's your carefree attitude and desire to see things done right. I don't know. But Heath, you've put your own life as risk twice now to ensure the safety of other people and I know she respects you for that. Not many could find fault with that in the first place."

"It wasn't as noble as you make it sound," Heath replied. "I only did those things for my own personal reasons, not to help the rest of you. I killed Eubans because he was morally bankrupt and never treated me too kindly in the first place. I went after the bandit leader in the desert because I was already driven by my lust for battle and I had to do something to keep that need satisfied. But isn't that the way it is for most of us? Once you taste battle and feel its inviting touch, there's not much you can do to stop it. Priscilla was right. I was thinking of nobody but myself."

Kent shook his head. "Heath, regardless of your intentions or your actions you helped all of us immensely. Lady Lyndis realized that. Priscilla and I did as well. Everybody but yourself recognizes your sacrifices and acknowledges them for what they truly are. Why can't you do that Heath? Don't sell yourself short and see great deeds as "no big deal". You've kept more lives from being lost in this conflict and no one can fault you for that."

Heath stared at him in shock. He was quite surprised, to say the least. No one had read that much into him in a long time, let alone behaved as if they cared about him, a complete stranger to everyone in the army. No one knew much about him at all. No one knew that he was a filthy deserter and the lowest form of life imaginable. Kent, a knight through and through, would not likely forgive something like that if he found out. Priscilla might think differently, although there was no way to tell. It didn't make any sense to him. Then again, not much did anymore.

"Would you like to form a partnership, Heath?" Kent said suddenly.

"A…partnership?" Heath was confused. "What do you mean by that?"

"You know very well what I mean, Heath. I want us to watch each other's backs on the battlefield. I believe that it would be mutually beneficial to both of us. There is only so much each of us can do for this army individually and I for one would feel much more comfortable if I knew I had someone watching my back. Sain likes to rush off on his own and essentially leave me out to dry while he attempts to impress the female members of our group. There is much we can learn from each other as well. I'm somewhat interested in the fighting styles of wyvern knights and how they approach battle."

A smile formed in the corner of his mouth. "I know that reckless ambition is not at the core of their thinking, either. There has to be a more structured way you fight! You can also learn about the skills of Caelin's knights. What do you say, Heath?" Kent extended his hand. "Do we have an agreement?"

Heath paused. There was something suspicious about everything Kent was saying. The cavalier seemed a bit too eager to entrust his safety to Heath, a complete stranger and former mercenary who had fought on the opposing side. Kent wanted something from him and was doing well to hide it, just like Priscilla had been. Kent appeared to be honorable enough, but Heath knew from experience that looks could be deceiving. But, if Kent truly was trying to uncover Heath's secret, perhaps it would be good having him close by so he could keep an eye on him.

_Keep your friends close but keep your enemies even closer, _his commander had once advised him. _This way, if they choose to stab you in back, you'll be ready._

_Very well, _Heath thought. _I'll play your little game, Kent. But if you choose to betray me, you'll find yourself hanging from a tree._

Heath detached from the wall and shook Kent's hand. "Fine. But just so we're clear on this Kent, I don't trust you. I don't even know you. So don't expect me to be there every time you need me. This is strictly business."

Kent frowned. "I'm not asking you to trust me. I just want you to know that you're not alone in this army, Heath. Everyone needs someone else to look out for them every once in awhile and considering the circumstances, it would be wise for you to take advantage of that. And do keep in mind that Priscilla will be looking out for you as well, whether you like it or not. Knowing this, you might consider doing the same for her."

Heath smiled. Maybe he had misjudged Kent and Priscilla as well. Perhaps he had found two friends where he had not thought to look for them.


	7. Chapter 6: Promises

**A Collision of Fates**

**Chapter Six: Promises**

"Come on, Heath! Surely you can do better!"

Heath parried the first strike from his opponent and dodged the surprisingly swift second attack, rolling to his right and bringing his weapon to bear. But the other was on him instantly, so fast that Heath didn't even have time to bring himself to his knees. Lying flat on his back, Heath desperately parried each sword slash that came at him, knowing that if he faltered he would be done for.

The next strike collided with Heath's lance, the flat part of Kent's blade hitting the shaft of the lance. The two remained locked, the weight of Kent's blade bearing down on the wyvern rider and slowly forcing Heath's arms back down until the lance was pressed against his chest. Sweat flowed freely from his brow into his eyes and Heath strained his muscles to push Kent back, but his opponent had superior strength and gravity in his favor.

Kent smiled. "Yield, Heath. You are beaten. This point is mine." Despite saying this, Kent did not let move his blade an inch.

But instead of admitting defeat, Heath smiled instead. "You haven't beaten me, Kent. You've sacrificed your footing for a killing stroke."

With one sweep of his left leg, Heath took Kent's legs out from underneath him, using the momentum to push himself to his own feet. The cavalier hit the ground hard and the sword fell from his hands. Wasting no time, Heath gripped _Salvatore _tightly in his hands and thrust the lance down at Kent's tunic in attempt to pin him against the ground. But the cavalier was quick and rolled out of way and retrieved his blade.

Heath was on him instantly, leaving his lance imbedded in the soil and slamming into the other just as Kent came to his feet. The two hit the ground and Heath struggled to wrest the sword from Kent's hands only to find the other's grip hard as iron. Heath seized Kent's wrist and twisted it back, forcing the other to drop the blade to the ground. He seized the sword and held it to Kent's neck hoping the other would yield, but instead Kent kicked out with both legs into Heath's chest and sent the wyvern rider sprawling.

With more effort than he thought would have been needed, Heath slowly rose to his feet, hand held against his left side, breathing heavily. Pain shot through him but he pushed it away. Kent had drawn the spare blade fastened to his doublet and came at Heath with surprising swiftness, giving him no time to recover from the previous blow. He parried each strike, finding his movements less agile but more stable than Kent's. The two circled each other, locked in intense combat, waiting for the other to strike first.

Heath held the blade tightly in both hands, not accustomed to its unfamiliar texture. He hadn't fought with a sword in long time, not since he had first begun his training as a knight in Bern. He had been taught the basics of wielding a sword but nothing more. He carried a spare blade on the saddle of his wyvern but he had always wielded his primary weapon…

_A lance._

_Salvatore. _It was still imbedded in the ground some two feet behind Kent, spear point completely buried in the earth. Kent must have realized this, for the other moved directly in front of the lance and stopped. He made no indication that he intended to use the lance, only to prevent Heath from obtaining it. Kent knew Heath was not very skilled with swords and would not risk losing his small advantage. Heath searched for any option that might aid him, but could find none. As long as Kent kept Heath from obtaining the lance, the battle might as well be over already.

Then Heath remembered something. It was so obvious he didn't understand how he couldn't have seen it before. It was the core fundamentals of knight training in Bern and the first drill he had ever participated in. The key to defeating an enemy in situations such as this was not to strike a killing blow at the first opportunity but to ensure that the opponent could not even use his weapon to defend himself. All that was required was one initial move that was so simple Kent would not expect anything else and only react in one logical way.

The moment the thought was completed, Heath raised his blade and charged full speed in Kent's direction, closing the distance between the two of them in seconds. As Heath had hoped, Kent raised his sword and swept the blade downward. Heath let it happen, but instead of taking the blow head on he slid to his right. Kent's sword struck his and blow glanced off, leaving the cavalier's left side completely exposed.

Almost instantaneously, Heath dropped his own sword and delivered several quick jabs into Kent's side, two in the abdomen and one just under the left arm. The force of the blows was so great that Kent dropped his sword. Heath grabbed the front of Kent's tunic and in own fluid motion, spun the cavalier around and pulled _Salvatore _from the ground. He pressed the shaft of the lance against Kent's chest and pinned him against the trunk of a large oak tree.

"Well done, Heath," Kent said, letting his body go limp. "I shall concede to you. The point is yours. No need to keep me pinned against this tree, is there?"

Heath obliged, pulling his lance back and allowing the other to step away. Both were breathing heavily, their sweat covered bodies exhausted from a long hour of sparring. The forest clearing they had chosen for their spar was littered with weapons, pieces of cloth and drops of blood. They had picked their battle arena far enough away from the main army encampment so there wouldn't be any unneeded interruptions during the battle but close in the case something should go horribly awry.

"You fought well, Kent," Heath remarked, leaning on his lance for support. "You're much quicker than I had originally thought, though your footing isn't as solid as it could be. You should work on stabilizing your movements so you won't be knocked off your feet quite as easily as you were today. As you well know, once you're on your back in all of that armor, it will be very difficult to get back your feet again."

"I'm generally accustomed to fighting on horseback," Kent replied, retrieving both of his swords. "Most of the sparring I do is with Sain while we're on horses and I've haven't done as much fighting on the ground as you clearly have. But thanks for the the advice."

He paused as he sheathed his sword. "That was a very interesting strategy you used at the end, by the way."

Heath nodded. "It's an old tactic, one you wouldn't commonly see outside of training. In the thick of battle, I won't drop my weapon unless I'm completely desperate." He looked up the sky. The sun had almost sunk below the trees by now. "We had better call it a day for now. It's getting late and we should probably head back before dinner."

"Very well. Would you care for another spar later this evening then?"

Heath shook his head. "I don't think so. I have late watch tonight and I would like to get in what sleep I can."

Kent sighed. "I suppose I'll see if Sain or Marcus is up for a spar later." He seemed genuinely disappointed at the thought. "I guess I'll see you at dinner, Heath." He turned his back and headed back into the trees. Heath mustered whatever energy he had left and did the same.

Heath hurried back though the trees back toward the camp, barely making a sound as he did. Finding his tent with ease, he slipped inside before anyone could notice him. Removing his clothes, he washed with a rag and a basin of water set inside the tent flap. He was careful around his left side but he still felt pain when he put enough pressure there. It had only been several days since their battles in desert and the army had arrived in Pherae due to Archsage Athos' power. Though a few days wasn't long enough for the wound to heal. Priscilla had mended it nicely, but healing staves only went so far. The skin was still tender and the scar he bore would likely stay with him forever.

When he was finished, he redressed and exited the tent, making his way toward the center of the camp. He found that dinner had already started, a modest serving of soup and dried bread, but anything hot would be welcome. At least Rebecca was the one on meal duty tonight, as opposed to Lowen. While the cavalier could no doubt cook better than individuals such as Guy and Bartre, last time Lowen had made some strange concoction of stew that tasted oddly like dishwater and spoiled meat. Heath had been only one of many who had found themselves imploring Serra and Priscilla for any kind of remedy to quell their raging stomachs. Just thinking about it made Heath's stomach churn.

But as always, he smiled kindly at Rebecca and took his meal without a word, choosing a spot far from the others, free to become lost in his thoughts.

Although he felt relatively alone, Heath was satisfied with the place he had found in this world. Bern was behind him and while its horrifying memories were all too clear in his mind he chose to look forward and relish what he had. He liked this group that he was with, it was definitely an improvement over Eubans and his mercenaries. Kent and Priscilla were the ones who treated him more kindly than anyone else. Fiora enjoyed talking to him when they were out scouting and the archer Wil had approached him several times at random to strike up a conversation. But that's the way armies, and especially this one, were, he supposed. The more tightly-knit your soldiers were, the more reliable they could be in battle. Solitude was his own real ally in the days following his desertion but Heath realized now that he needed other people to fill that hole after his companions had died. After all, there was a reason he hadn't been killed on that day almost three weeks ago.

_Heh. Has it really been three weeks since I left Bern? It feels like it was so much longer ago than that. It's likely that I won't here another word about what happened to Isaac, Vaida and the others. It will all be expertly covered up and the people will forget that anything ever even happened. Be that as it may, I need to live for all of them. If I can't learn to fully appreciate their sacrifice, I disgrace their memory and I'll never be able to move on. _Quite content with the conclusion he had reached, Heath smiled and continued eating.

He thought back to his spar with Kent. Though he had criticized Kent for his footing, it wasn't as if Heath had nothing to improve as well. Kent had made no remark about the wyvern rider's own shortcomings, leaving Heath to figure them out for himself. Too many times Heath had found himself at a disadvantage, bereft of a weapon or on the wrong end of a struggle. In training he was in no serious danger, but what if he made those same mistakes in battle? He knew what the result would be. If he were to have any chance at surviving this fight against Nergal and his morphs, he would need to train longer, harder and much more than he normally did.

"Hello, Heath!"

Heath jumped in spite of himself and almost spilled his soup all over his lap. He looked to his left to find Priscilla sitting next him, looking up and smiling at him. How long had she been there, anyway? He hadn't even heard her approach!

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you," she said. "I saw you sitting by yourself and I thought I would come over and join you. I didn't initially say hello because it looked like you were thinking about something and I thought it best not to interrupt your concentration."

"That's…very kind of you, Priscilla," Heath replied. "I was just thinking back on my spar with Kent and ways I could improve myself. So, is there anything I can do for you?"

"No, not really. I just wanted to ask you about that spar with Kent. Where did you learn to fight like that? It's not like other fighting styles I've seen." She seemed quite enthralled with the subject, eager to know more.

Heath raised an eyebrow. "Wait. You were watching us? Why?"

"As a healer is my duty to make sure everyone in this army is in good health and don't injure themselves during training. In your case specifically, I thought it imperative to watch you and Kent since you two don't normally spar with wooden staves like most of the others do. You were also far enough away that you may not have gotten help in time if something had gone wrong." She lowered her head and her smile disappeared. "If it's a bother, I won't follow you anymore, even on the battlefield."

"No, no! It's not like that, Priscilla! It is comforting to know that you're watching my back if I do get into trouble, especially considering the way that I train everyday." Heath put his hand on her shoulder. "I do appreciate your kindness, Priscilla. Just promise not to go completely out of your way on my account. There are other people in this army who have need of your services as much as I do."

Her smile returned instantly. "Okay! I'll always be there when you need me!" She had a childish look of anticipation on her face, her eyes glittering and cheeks blushed. The sight made Heath smile and wish he had a little sister just like her when he was younger.

"So, you still haven't answered my question, Sir Heath," Priscilla said, sipping at her soup. "Who taught you how to fight like that?"

"Well, as I told Kent earlier, it's an old tactic that's taught to recruits training to become knights of Bern. Melee combat on the ground is just as important as doing battle in the air while mounted on a wyvern. The first thing that we're taught in training is to fear neither death nor pain but rather to embrace both. In order to become a more skilled fighter, a knight must first come to grip with his own mortality and know that his life can be taken from him in an instant, without hesitation. Therefore, he must be prepared to do the same, whatever the method or the cost."

Priscilla frowned. "By any means necessary? No matter what?"

Memories came back to Heath instantly but he forced them back. "With…limitations, of course. There are certain orders, and I'm sure you know of what I speak, that a knight should never be commanded to perform. Acts such as those would forever stain the honor and integrity of any man."

Priscilla put her bowl down and turned to face him. "Killing another person is a senseless act that I do not agree with but is regrettably required in times such as these in order to maintain some form of peace and stability in the world. Life is sacred and should be treated as such. But killing an armed soldier on the battlefield is nothing compared to taking the life of an innocent person. I don't understand how such deplorable acts could still exist in this world. Don't you think so, Sir Heath?"

Heath didn't answer. He was already immersed in his own thoughts on the matter, disgusted with the fact that he had allowed the conversation to reach this point. Here he was, amid all of his selfish desires and determination not to speak of such atrocities to anybody, professing his own feelings to a girl he was barely acquainted with. Why had he done that? It wasn't as if he had revealed anything specific about his own past and he doubted Priscilla suspected anything at all about him. Maybe it was the way Priscilla had approached the matter, her voice full of innocence and naivety, which had unknowingly forced him into conversation on the subject.

Heath closed eyes, completely forgetting where he was and what he was doing. He was dangerously close to telling Priscilla everything, confessing all of his sins and telling her who he truly was: a deserter. He couldn't understand why he was even feeling that way. Perhaps the guilt was weighing so heavily upon him that he desperately needed to tell somebody who he had become who he was and why, just to put an end to things. But at the same time he knew that if he were to do so everything would be lost. He actually had a place in this army and was more or less trusted by its troops. Then he would truly have nowhere to go, doomed to forever run from those who sought to destroy him.

"Sir Heath? Are you all right?"

Heath snapped back to reality and opened his eyes. Pricilla was staring up at him, her smile gone and clearly concerned. Heath looked down and noticed that his hands were shaking, the soup in his bowl sloshing over the edges and onto his hands. He put the bowl down and took a deep breath to calm himself.

"I-I'm sorry. I was just…" He trailed off, not sure what to say. He knew what he wanted to tell her but he couldn't find the words for it. "I guess it just bothers me more than I thought that those things happen and no one does anything to stop it."

"Isn't that why we're fighting in the first place?" Priscilla said. "So that no more innocent people will be killed in the pointless struggle? I feel, Sir Heath, that as long as everyone in this army has the desire to end this fight we can bring peace back to the world. As long as we continue to fight as one and not separate ourselves from others, we can accomplish that goal."

Heath nodded. Priscilla's words filled him with strength and determination, something he would not have expected from her. She was still just a girl and had much to learn about the facts and harsh truths of life but he could see that her will was unwavering. Heath realized then just how much he needed her, someone to talk to and look after him when he wasn't on the battlefield. Though he didn't know her very well, she was the closest thing to a friend that he had. He needed her and also Kent out there as well but he knew his strength would have to come from somewhere other than inside himself. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to have her by his side for the duration of this conflict.

"Priscilla." He turned his body to face her. "I know this may sound strange coming from me, being as wyvern riders usually fight alone, but if it's not too much trouble I'd like it if you stayed close to me on the battlefield. I don't mean to deliberately put you in harm's way but Hyperion and I would both feel much more at ease if we had you to rely on."

Priscilla's face instantly lit up. "Truly? You mean that? But I thought you said-"

"Forget about what I said. I didn't realize before that it may have seemed I was pushing you away and I didn't care for you being there when I needed you. That's not how I feel and I don't want for things to be that way. I'd rather not completely isolate myself and end up dead where no one will ever find me. That's a lesson I've already learned the hard way. Hyperion and I can only do so much on our own and that includes staying alive. This way, I don't have the constant fear of being killed instantly and I can look after you as well. Friends are supposed to protect each other, right? So, what do you say Priscilla?"

"Oh Heath, thank you!" She practically jumped on him and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her body against his. The advance surprised him but he was even more surprised when he found himself returning the embrace, putting his arms around her back. Her body felt small and frail compared to his, her skin soft and warm and her hair had the fragrance of roses. They remained there for a few moments before both pulled hastily away from the other, a bit shocked at what had just transpired.

"I apologize, that was improper," Priscilla said, returning to where she had been sitting. Her face was flushed in the brightest red Heath had ever seen and while she was trying valiantly to hide her embarrassment, she had a broad smile on her face. "I just got a bit flustered, was all."

Heath was speechless and Priscilla bent over to pick up her things. "I have to…um…go check on my horse, make sure she's doing alright…" She stood up and started to walk away but stopped and turned back. "I'll see you later, Sir Heath. Be sure to come find me if you need anything!" She hurried off back into the rows of tents and was lost from view.

Heath didn't move for several minutes thereafter, still in shock of what had happened. It was unexpected, to say the least. He hadn't fully realized just how much staying close to him meant to Priscilla. Heath did know two things with better certainty now, however. One, he would no longer have to worry about keeping himself safe on the battlefield solely through his own strength; and two, Priscilla wasn't at all interested in why Heath was even there in the first place. She wanted nothing more than a friend to rely on and someone she could talk to. That must have been what she wanted from the beginning and may have been too timid to do anything about it. Her reasons for wanting to be with him were far less suspicious than Kent's and gave Heath the impression that perhaps he could trust her.

Eventually recovering, Heath quickly finished his meal and headed back to his tent, wanting to get a few hours of sleep before his watch began at midnight. It took him awhile to fall asleep but when he finally did he was still thinking about what had happened that evening. He dreamt for a time and while his nightmares began in earnest they didn't last long and were instead replaced by dreams of what may happen the next time he saw Priscilla.


	8. Chapter 7: Suspicions and Dangerous Game

**A Collision of Fates**

**Chapter Seven: Suspicions and Dangerous Games**

Eliwood and Hector had the army up and moving far earlier than usual the following day. The sun had barely become a faint hue of yellow and orange on the eastern horizon when Heath heard the first sounds of movement from within the camp. Heath was dismayed to find that he had fallen asleep during his late night watch while resting against the trunk of an old pine tree. Nothing appeared to be amiss when he scanned the surrounding area. He was surprised that he had not caught sight of any Black Fang spies, especially considering their proximity to Bern. Eliwood had mentioned that the Black Fang made their headquarters in Bern somewhere very near the capital and would have their stronger forces close to there. The thought was not very encouraging, being as the Black Fang's troops outnumbered theirs almost ten to one.

The army marched to the north, skirting the mountains on the western slopes. The day was cool and overcast and a chill wind blew in from the northwest. It was the kind of cloudiness where no breaks in the clouds were visible and gave no opportunity for the sun to shine through, even for a few moments, and offer a small amount of warmth. The members of Eliwood's army, accustomed to the warmer temperatures of the west and north, found themselves rummaging through their packs to dig out cloaks and long pants to retain what heat they could.

By mid to late morning the army had passed entirely out of Pherae's borders and into Bern, taking a widely traveled path northeast through the mountains. They entered and passed through completely unopposed, which unnerved Heath and many of the other more cautious soldiers in the army. They hadn't seen a single trace of the Black Fang in days. Not even Bern's own soldiers were in evidence. Why was this? Wouldn't Nergal have expected them to follow him to Bern and have dispatched troops to wait for them? The cliffs and slopes surrounding the mountain pass were strewn with boulders and crevices that would be ideal for anyone wishing to launch a surprise attack. Heath and the other Pegasus units had reported seeing nothing and so the little army passed through unhindered. Still the question remained: why were they leaving them alone?

Their answer came when the army passed through a lakeside city in Bern later the next day. They arrived at midday, intent on only gathering information and supplies without being discovered. The town was livelier than most others Heath had seen this far from Bern's capital, the streets shops filled with people bustling about, enjoying themselves and completely oblivious to the threat that loomed over their land. It made Heath sick at heart and miss the days of being carefree with few worries, free to live his life in any way he wanted to.

Luck, however, was not on their side. Black Fang agents had apparently progressed thus far west into and Bern. They found them out much quicker than Eliwood had anticipated and the battle began in earnest. Linus Reed, the Mad Dog of the Four Fangs and Brendan Reed's youngest son, commanded the opposing force, intent on crushing whatever resistance Eliwood's army could muster up. Enemy troops were on them before those in Eliwood's army could reach their weapons.

The battle was not going to be ended quickly; Heath figured that out for himself. Soldiers darted through streets and between buildings, trying to get behind the enemy. Spears were hurled in all directions and arrows flew through the tiniest of gaps, most of them finding their mark more often than not. The villagers fled for the safety of their houses to avoid becoming caught in the crossfire. Healers stayed hidden the shadows, waiting for the opportune moment to burst from their concealment and heal their wounded comrades.

For the first time since joining the army, Heath decided to forego his previous battle tactics and instead kept to his promises, staying as close as he could to Kent and Priscilla. He flew close enough to the ground to aid Kent when the situation arose and Priscilla trailed after him, tending to his injuries whenever needed. Guerilla warfare wasn't going to be particularly effective here. The enemies were too watchful and vigilant, always on guard for ambushes from behind houses and shops. Heath and Kent formed an unspoken strategy for this battle, one that took form as the army's tactician ordered them into battle. Kent chased the enemy archers and mages from the alleyways while Heath flew in and picked them off one by one. The proved to be effective as their enemies went into fits of fear and panic, practically throwing down their weapons and fleeing the moment Heath and Kent charged at them. Several times Heath broke away from Kent to chase off several Pegasus knights, circling high above them and steadily closing in, forcing them closer to the ground. This left them at the mercy of Wil and Rebecca. Their arrows flew swift and true, burying themselves in the soft underbellies and wings of the Pegasi. The winged beasts crashed to the ground and left their dismounted riders to fend for themselves.

Toward the end of the battle, when victory was nigh and Linus was becoming overwhelmed by superior numbers, wyvern riders appeared on the eastern edge of the battlefield. Heath's heart sank. He had been hoping that Bern's own troops would not interfere in this conflict and remain neutral for the time being, despite the fact blood was being spilled within their borders. There had been rumors that several platoons of wyvern riders had joined with the Black Fang and no longer served Bern itself. It mattered little to Heath in any case. He refused to fight against his own countrymen. It made his heart heavy to see his old comrades cut down by his new allies. Bitterness welled up from within him.

The wyverns of Bern provided some measure of relief to the Black Fang, but they were soon overrun and Linus Reed was defeated. Eliwood and Hector chose not stay in town any longer than necessary. They collected what supplies they needed from the town and soon the army was on the move again east. By dusk they had traveled much farther than they had anticipated and made camp in a forest on the western banks of the river. Leaving nothing to chance, Eliwood set a watch around the camp the moment the army set up camp. It was likely that as they drew closer to the capital the risk of night ambushes would increase.

Heath brought Hyperion to the ground and practically fell from his saddle, spreading out on the ground to take a breather. The feeling of the grass against his skin was a welcoming feeling, its touch cool and refreshing. He was exhausted, in body and spirit both, from battling day in and day out. Their battle that day had been much more brutal and gruesome than any other before it and had ended in victory only by the smallest of margins. The fighting would only get harder as they progressed.

Despite this, Heath felt oddly at peace. Judging by everything that had happened, he should have given into despair by the time he returned to Bern, ashamed at what he had done to his country. He had originally been depressed at the prospect of coming back. He dreaded the very thought of it. But he had forgotten what it was like to be home, surrounded by the things that truly made a man happy. He had missed the mountains and the rolling green fields of the countryside. He thought back on those autumn afternoons in the mountains when he was on temporary leave from the army. The aspens transitioning from soft green to vibrant orange and yellow and the cool winds that blew in from the peaks, occasionally bringing rain or even snow. No one else would be with him, just him and Hyperion, free to wander the mountain slopes and their forests, totally free to become lost in the tranquility of nature. Heath put his hands behind his head and closed his eyes. He doubted that the feeling would last him through the war but was nice to have moments such as these.

"Hey. You there, wyvern rider."

Heath looked up. Hector, the brutish lord from Ostia and Lord Uther's younger brother, was standing before him and staring at him. Heath didn't like what he read in those eyes; they were filled with hate and distrust. Of course, Hector always looked at everybody that way, save for Lord Eliwood and possibly Lady Lyndis. Heath had noticed how Hector looked at the young girl from Sacae, a look that went far beyond a desire for a simple friendship. Still, there was something uncanny about the way Hector was eyeing him.

Heath kept his composure, however. "Hello, Hector." He didn't with bother with formalities, knowing that Hector didn't care for things such as those. He rose to his feet and proceeded to unsaddle Hyperion, feigning disinterest at Hector's presence. "What can I do for you?"

"Why are you still here?" Hector asked quite bluntly.

Heath froze, then turned to face him. "Excuse me?

"You're from Bern right? You trained with them and whatnot?" He stepped closer to Heath, leaning on the axe he held in his left hand. The Wolf Beil, if Heath remembered correctly. "I was simply curious as to why you're still a part of this army. Our goal here is to fight that blackheart Nergal and the Black Fang, possibly even Bern's armies as well. Shouldn't you take your wyvern and fly off back to the capital where you belong?"

Heath hesitated. Hector clearly had no problem with calling things as he saw them. He hadn't really expected to be asked this question, especially from somebody such as Lord Hector. Heath had thought his presence would go virtually unnoticed by those who surely had better things to worry about.

"Lord Eliwood made me a part of your army. Shouldn't that be enough?" It was the only real answer he had, though he admitted that it was a weak one at best. "You are wholeheartedly loyal to him. Eliwood has placed his trust in me and therefore, shouldn't you Hector?"

The Ostian lord shook his head. "Eliwood's generous to a fault. He wants nothing more than to help other people and end this conflict without fighting. But sometimes his caring and generosity gets in the way of his reason. Eliwood recruited you because we were short on troops and you kindly offered to fight for us. You've been true to your word so far."

Heath raised an eyebrow. "It doesn't sound like you think that's the case anymore."

"No, I don't as a matter of fact!" Hector was practically shouting and stepped even closer to Heath, holding his axe in both hands. Heath still held _Salvatore _in his right hand, holding the lance behind his back. He didn't think he would need it but Hector's actions had him concerned. Why was Hector being so volatile? Heath hadn't done anything to provoke him, as far as he knew. Maybe it was something he hadn't done…

"Are you accusing me of something, Hector?" Heath retorted, anger boiling up from inside him. "Based on everything that's happened since I joined this army, what do you have to accuse me for? I've risked getting myself killed twice, once when we fought in Ostia, your homeland! In case you hadn't noticed, I was the one who prevented Eubans from slaughtering everybody in the castle that day!"

Heath stepped closer and looked Hector straight in the eye. "I obey every order that's given to me, without question or hesitation. I go on those damn scouting missions everyday to make sure the path for _your _army is safe! How is my role here any different than that of Fiora or Florina? Eliwood and several others in this army trust me. Trust is not something to be taken lightly in times such as these. Knowing this Hector, I believe accusations such as yours are completely unwarranted."

Hector frowned. "That's only true until I reveal your purpose to Eliwood."

"And what purpose might that be?"

"Heath, despite everything you've just said and done, I can only see one reason why you are still in this army! I know King Desmond has spies all over the continent and they take on many disguises and identities. Bern's been looking for any crack in Lycia's defenses for months now, especially since my brother took over as head of the Lycian League. Now, you told Eliwood that you were part of an envoy to Pherae but you became separated so now you're looking for your old comrades. Is this correct?"

"Yes it is, but-"

"Heath, you are a LIAR!" Hector shoved Heath back against a tree, holding him there with his axe. Hector's brute strength surprised him. "I spoke with Eliwood and told him about it. He had absolutely no idea what I was talking about. There never was any such envoy going to Pherae at that time!"

Hector pulled Heath's face closer to his own. "How long has it been since Bern sent you out?" he hissed. "Did you forget that you were with Eubans and his pack of curs in the first place because you were a knight on reconnaissance work for Bern? You couldn't have possibly thought that you could keep that a secret from us. Letting a stranger join up with us willy-nilly isn't something that sits well with me. For every person in this army that trusts you there is one who doesn't trust you, Heath. I'm not the only one. Erk and that guy Raven don't care for you much, either. They're just as suspicious as I am about you being here."

Heath put his lance between himself and Hector's axe. "If you've figured all of this out already, why remain silent?"

"Because your actions have been beneficial to Eliwood and the rest of this army. I won't fault you for doing what you're told to do." Hector suddenly pulled his axe away and stepped back. "Despite your lying and treacherous nature, you're capable enough to fight around here and give what aid you can to this army."

He started to walk away but then turned back. "But mark my words Heath: you will NOT betray Eliwood. If I sense anything remotely suspicious, it's over. You're done. I'll kill you before I even let you come near Eliwood. Keeping yourself safe from enemy soldiers on the battlefield should be the least of your worries right now." Hector hoisted his axe over his shoulder and disappeared back into the trees.

_Wow, I wonder if he realizes just how misguided he truly is, _Heath thought, stepping away from the tree. He walked back to Hyperion and finished unsaddling him before sending him off to find something to eat. Heath hoped that no one else had heard his argument with Hector but that was highly unlikely, especially considering how loud they were shouting. Heath hadn't thought himself yelling at the time but now that he thought back on it, he realized he had been.

Heath despaired. Things were getting entirely out of hand now. He knew there would be those in the army who would distrust him but as long as he stayed out of the way, no one would do anything about it. Yet now Hector was more than suspicious of him. While he was misguided in his assumptions for Heath's purpose in the army he had issued him a death threat should he attempt anything. Hector was closer to Lord Eliwood than anyone else and would undoubtedly tell his friend of his suspicions. What would happen then? Would Eliwood simply dismiss him from the army? Heath didn't think so. Their numbers were too few to have the luxury of being so picky. Eliwood would probably keep him around, despite what Hector would have told him.

_Then again, I could always just leave, _he thought. _But then, where would I go? What then would I do for money? I can't return to Bern and if I left this army, I would become a deserter all over again. I couldn't live with myself if I did that. Staying here is dangerous enough as it is but flying around Bern alone is more dangerous still._

The words buzzed around in his head like an angry bee. He needed someone to help clear his mind. Not necessarily to tell everything about what had just happened, just someone relieve some of his stress. He knew that if he remained by himself he would only become more depressed.

Gathering his things, he rushed off to find Priscilla.

X

"All I'm saying is there's got to be something more that we can do."

Heath sat in a circle with a few other members of the army, huddled tight and far out on the edges of their camp. They were well within the mountains by now and while it wasn't likely they would not be spotted, they decided not to chance a fire. A chill wind was blowing east out of the mountain peaks and would likely blow the smoke out into open air and alert the enemy. So now, even in the middle of the day and in broad daylight, they would have to make do with cloaks and blankets.

There were four of them in all, each one come from completely different backgrounds and with no ties to the other three whatsoever. First there was Raven, the red haired swordsman who right about no one knew anything about. The only thing Heath knew was that Raven held a grudge against House Ostia for secret reasons he had disclosed to no one. The Sacaen swordsman Guy was there as well, eager to a part of whatever plan they were concocting. The Pheraean archer Wil was far too impulsive to listen to reason more than half the time and more eager than Guy to jump in on the action. Finally there was Heath, who was questioning why he was there in the first place.

"What do you propose we do then, Raven?" was Guy's answer to the question. "You're the one who called us over here and yet you haven't offered any suggestions as to what we might do."

Raven snorted. "Don't look at me! I'm just sick and tired of sitting on the sidelines while Eliwood and his pals go around doing all of the work. It's been well over two hours since those three left to infiltrate Bern's capital. Why is it that they think they don't need us for anything when there's no battle to be fought? Fighting's not the only thing I'm good at, you know."

Wil spoke up next. "Hey! I've got an idea!" The archer jumped up with an excited look on his face. "Isn't it obvious? Why don't we just go and do what they're doing right now? Surely they wouldn't mind some help gathering some information. It would be easy enough, being as we would be able to move around faster."

"Fool! Keep your voice down!" Guy pulled the archer back down. "Still, that's not a bad idea. Staying back in camp in camp all of the time is starting to grow rather dull. As long as we move quickly we won't be spotted by any of Bern's soldiers from the ground or the air. Why not try it?"

"Why not?" Heath demanded. "Are you mad? How could you even think about doing such a thing? There's a reason why Bern has the most formidable defenses in the world. It's nothing short of a miracle that we've progressed this far without having seen a large majority of Bern's wyvern riders. They know how to stay hidden within these peaks and ambush you before you even know what's happening. So don't be so certain that you'll be able to even get close to the castle without being seen. I don't know how Eliwood plans on doing it. Besides, Lord Eliwood has ordered us to wait-"

"Shut up, Heath," Raven interrupted. Heath shot him a dark look. "There are those of us in this army who don't feel the need to completely obey _every _order that's given to us. We're not dogs to dragged around on a leash by these "nobles" that profess themselves to be better than us. Don't any of you ever get tired of always doing what you're told? In war games such as these, we're treated as disposable pawns. No one cares whether we live or die. Furthermore, we gain nothing by just sitting around in the cold all day." He stood up and looked at the other three. "I'm going out. Who else is with me?"

Wil stood up instantly. "I'm in. If I'm lucky, I'll be able to feather a few enemies along the way."

Guy nodded and stood as well. "So am I. What have we got to lose?"

_More than you think, _Heath thought darkly. The other three looked at him, waiting for his answer. The more Heath thought about, the less risk there was involved for him. He knew these mountain passes far better than anyone else and as long as he kept a sharp eye, he could avoid being spotted by any wyvern patrols. Even if he was, he could keep his distance so he wouldn't be recognized. And Raven was right about one thing: sitting around doing nothing was growing rather tedious. Heath needed something that would give him a bit of a thrill.

Finally, Heath stood up as well. "Fine. But just so we're clear on this, no one else is to know about this. If just one person catches wind of this, there will be no containing if afterwards. Then we will have to deal with Eliwood when he returns."

Raven nodded. "Excellent. Gather your things and meet on the north side of camp in an half an hour. Make sure that no on sees you leave." He turned his back and headed back into camp before any of the other three could respond. Wil dashed off instantly to find his bow and Guy gave Heath an inquisitive look before darting back in between the tents. Heath strode off in the same direction as Wil, hoping that he wouldn't be seen by Kent or anybody else on his way back.

The whole idea was ludicrous. What purpose did any of this serve? If Eliwood had asked for their help in the first place, Heath would have been more than happy to oblige. But he hadn't and Heath would be disobeying direct orders in doing this. True, waiting back at camp all of the time in situations such as these was rather dull but the life of a soldier wasn't just about the fighting. Raven and the others didn't fully understand that. They were far too reckless and impulsive when it came to getting things done. Those were the things that got men killed on the battlefield. Heath had been that way as a recruit but over the years he had gained the composure to keep a level head in battle.

Raven hadn't even offered why he called Heath over to begin with. This had Heath puzzled. Heath had been minding his own business and fixing his lance when Raven had approached him. Sure things would be easier for them if they had a wyvern rider to rely on, but Raven hadn't spoken a single word to him since he joined this army so why…

Heath stopped walking and a lump formed in his throat. He knew the answer to that question before he had even finished the thought. How could he have been so foolish? There was only one reason why Raven would want to have anything to do with him. Hector had told him that Raven was one of those in the army who didn't trust him. Raven only wanted Heath along so he could try and find out the true nature of who Heath really was. The swordsman had a dangerous air about him and it wouldn't be wise to anger him. If Raven truly suspected Heath was a deserter from Bern and planning to betray them, there would be no stopping him from him from finding out the truth.

_Damn it! Why is no matter how hard I try to remain as inconspicuous as possible someone in this army is always trying to find a way to undo me? If this continues any longer I'm going to end up fighting with members of my own army._

He had to find a way to end this, and quickly. He knew that the easiest way to do it was saying the one thing he knew that he could not bear to say. If people questioned him about it, he could choose to lie or to say nothing at all. But if he refused to say anything, it could be seen as agreeing with whatever the person was telling him. Lying only made things worse and another encounter like the one with Hector would not likely end in his favor. These were dangerous games he was playing and if didn't play his cards just perfectly, he would likely end up in a ditch with a sword through his chest.

Heath kept walking, his mind swimming with thoughts. He made his way back to his tent to gather his weapons and armor before calling Hyperion. It was then he saw Priscilla, sitting outside her own tent. She was speaking cheerfully to the girl Ninian, legs crossed and a bright smile spread across her face. Priscilla's smile always seemed to brighten his mood, no matter how sour it was. She always gave more back to him than he gave to her, unconditionally and without hesitation. Priscilla was the only one who had ever done so to him in his entire life and it made him wish his childhood had been filled with more people like her.

_You know what, screw it. What the hell do I owe to the other three of those guys, anyway? Only two people have treated me with any sort of kindness since I got here and none them are it. They can do just as well without me and I know they won't miss me being there. Besides, I run the risk of getting myself killed again. _Normally, he wasn't one to go against his word, but there was something else that he'd much rather do today.

Priscilla had apparently seen him walking and waved at him, motioning for him to come over and join them. Heath did so, taking a knee beside them.

"Hello Priscilla. Hello Ninian. Are you two staying warm out here? It's a chill wind that blows through these mountains."

Ninian smiled weakly. "Hello Heath. We are staying warm, thank you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I will be going now." She got up and left them without another word.

Heath looked at Priscilla. "That was sudden. Was there something I said?"

"No, I don't think so," Priscilla replied. "Ninian's just a bit shy is all. She doesn't do well when talking to other people, especially those she does not know particularly well. So don't take it personally. Is there something I can do for you, Sir Heath?"

"No, not really. I don't have much to do right now and I thought I'd come over and spend some time with you for awhile. Is that fine with you?"

"Certainly!" She paused. "Would you consider taking a walk with me instead of just sitting here? It might be easier to keep warm that way."

Heath smiled. He hoped she would ask something like that. "Actually, I had something a bit different in mind today."

Priscilla drew closer and her face lit up. "And what might that be, Sir Heath?"

Heath's smile broadened. "Tell me, Priscilla, have you ever ridden on a wyvern before?"


	9. Chapter 8: Into the Sky

**A Collision of Fates**

**Chapter Eight: Into the Sky**

Priscilla and Heath slipped away silently, deciding it was best not to inform anybody where they were going. Telling anybody that they were even going out for awhile would only raise questions. Simply as a precaution, Heath retrieved his armor from inside of his tent and put on, taking _Salvatore _with him as well. He told Priscilla that he didn't expect to run into any trouble along the way but being as they were within enemy territory, you couldn't be too careful. Priscilla decided to leave her staff behind since it would only become a burden once they were safely away. Vulneraries and elixirs would have to suffice this time should the need arise.

They kept clear of forest paths, staying concealed in the trees and bushes. Their journey through the forest itself was far from quiet, leaves and grass crunching beneath their feet as the walked. The breaking of the clouds above them allowed the sun to emerge, its light poking through the treetops and casting dapples of sunlight upon the forest floor. The forest was full of life, the chirping of birds and the buzzing of insects filling the air about them. Squirrels and other small tree animals scurried across the branches while rabbits darted in and out of bushes and between tree trunks. Once Priscilla thought she heard cry of a hawk far above the canopy, triumphantly announcing the capture of its prey.

Not long after they had left camp, Heath removed a small whistle from a pouch at his belt and blew into it hard. It emitted a high-pitched sound that Priscilla could barely hear. When she asked him about it, he told her that wyverns had a much more acute sense of hearing than humans. That was lucky for him, he explained, for a rider could summon his wyvern to his location without alerting enemy soldiers to his whereabouts. Hyperion could pinpoint the exact place the whistle had been blown and be there in a matter of minutes, no matter how far away he was. The bond between a wyvern rider and his mount was extremely strong and the latter could feel the former's presence no matter the distance. Like a heartbeat, he analogized. Hyperion had served no other master before him. When Heath had first been knighted, he had not chosen Hyperion; rather, Hyperion had chosen him. Hyperion had been alive long before Heath had even been born and waited for Heath to seek out a mount. Priscilla was impressed at how close the two were, for she had always thought the two separate from each other. But Heath showed that the two were joined together in an everlasting bond of friendship that could only be severed through one's death. This made flying a much more comfortable and enjoyable experience, she supposed.

_I still can't believe I agreed to go though with this, _she thought nervously.

When Heath had asked her the question, it had caught her completely off guard. She had expected him to propose something else that they could do together and while she couldn't think of anything else he would say, she had thought it would be something a little less…radical. Flying on a wyvern was not something she had ever considered doing in her entire life. Truthfully, she never thought she would ever have the opportunity to do so. As an adopted daughter of a noble of house of Etruria, she had always led a very pampered life, generally not allowed to leave and explore the world on her terms. The only time she had ever done so was when she had traveled through Laus with Erk, a trip that had almost ended in disaster.

She had originally been unsure of whether she could or even should go out and do this or not. But Heath had been very persuasive in his argument, assuring her that they would not be disobeying any direct orders in doing this. If they were to be questioned about it, he would simply say they were out on a scouting mission. While she didn't approve of deliberately lying she couldn't resist his request. She greatly enjoyed spending time with Heath; she looked forward to seeing him everyday and talking to him whenever the chance arose. It had gotten to the point where she _needed _to see him, to hear his voice and look into his eyes. Whenever she stopped speaking with him it left her with an empty feeling inside, something she had not experienced with anybody else before. She had come a long way from not trusting Heath at all when the wyvern rider had joined the army. Being with him made her happier than she had ever been in her life. She wondered if Heath felt the same way about her.

Her thoughts scattered when the two of them emerged from the trees onto a small cliff overlooking hills below. Hyperion was already there, saddled and ready to go. Priscilla hadn't seen much of the wyvern up close since she had healed his wounds in the desert. Heath spoke of him often whether she mentioned him or not. The gash Hyperion had suffered in the desert battle had healed over completely and no scar was even in evidence. Upon seeing the wyvern, she stopped short of him. Heath kept walking but when he realized she was no longer beside him he stopped and turned back.

"Priscilla? Are you all right?" He strode back to her. "Are you nervous? You've been around Hyperion before."

A lump formed in her throat. "Well, yes I have…" She trailed off. "But that's been during battle when I've still been at a bit of a distance and content with keeping my feet on the ground. Weren't you nervous the first time you rode Hyperion at first, Sir Heath?"

Heath forced a laugh. "That's to be expected, don't you think? Anybody would feel that way doing something like this. It was no different for me. I don't remember how many times I fell off when I was first learning to ride! There was the time I fell into the briar patch near my home and-" When he saw Priscilla's eyes widen with fear and sink to her knees, he stopped talking.

"Priscilla." He took a knee beside her. "I can understand why you're afraid, I really do. There's nothing you need to worry about. It's not like you'll be up there by yourself. I'll be there with you and I won't let anything happen to you, no matter what. But if you're absolutely opposed to this, I won't force you." He paused. "Don't you trust me, Priscilla?"

She looked up at him. "Of course I trust you, Sir Heath! How could I not? I wouldn't dream of thinking otherwise or making you feel that way. Just promise me that you won't try anything too extreme, all right?"

Heath nodded. "I promise. Now let's go."

Priscilla rose to her feet and followed Heath over to where Hyperion waited. Deciding that it might not be needed after all, he removed his armor and stowed it away in the bushes, clearly indicating that he meant from them to come back this way. Heath began checking to make sure everything was properly secured while Priscilla gently stroked the wyvern's head. Hyperion had taken rather fondly to her, possibly because she treated him and his rider with such kindness. From what she had heard before, wyverns were very protective of themselves and their masters, not often allowing anybody near them. She considered herself very lucky to have met Heath and Hyperion on the same side of the battlefield.

"Okay, all set." Heath appeared next to her. "Are you ready, Priscilla?"

She nodded and stood next to the saddle. "I…suppose it's just like getting on a horse?"

"Ha ha! It's little more difficult than that. Since it's your first time, however, allow me to lend you a hand." He grabbed her by the waist and lifted her up onto the saddle as if she weighed absolutely nothing at all. He fastened restraining straps about her waist to ensure that she wouldn't slide off once they were in flight. Slinging his lance over his shoulder, Heath effortlessly swung up onto the saddle behind her and took the reins in his right hand. Placing his feet in the stirrups, he walked Hyperion to the edge of the cliff.

Priscilla peered over the edge. The view was lovely from this high up but it was such a long way down! It was at least several hundred feet, she guessed. The cliff dropped straight down into a ravine that stretched out for miles in either direction. Priscilla closed her eyes and swallowed hard. She didn't care to contemplate what would happen if she fell from this height.

She felt Heath's arm about her waist and his voice in her ear. "Just keep a hold of the saddle horn and you'll be fine," he whispered. "If you find that you're losing your balance just lean back into me. I'll take care of you." His words should have comforted her but she still couldn't quell the butterflies in her stomach. She gripped the saddle horn tightly in both hands and shut her eyes even tighter.

"All right then. Fly, Hyperion! Into the sky!"

Hyperion let out a ferocious roar and leapt into the air, wings flapping furiously. Priscilla felt all of the breath leave her body as Hyperion soared higher into the air. Once they cleared the cliff Heath sent Hyperion into a nosedive and Priscilla felt it was as if her heart had jumped up into her throat. Gripping the saddle horn tightly in both hands she leaned forward, eyes wide with both fear and amazement. When they had descended to the top of the ravine Heath pulled Hyperion back level to the ground, caught an air current and rose skyward. Priscilla felt her stomach lurch as they continued to soar higher. She looked back up at Heath to find him chuckling. She smiled bravely at him and tried to suppress what she was feeling.

Hyperion flattened out above the trees, wings barely moving, letting the wind do the work. The canopy of trees below them was a sea of green waves, the leaves undulating in the afternoon breeze. Clouds drifted lazily by, never in a hurry to get where they needed to go. Birds occasionally flew around them, most not the least bit intimidated by Hyperion's size. Priscilla could see the forbidding peaks of mountains in every direction, some no more than a hundred yards away, others farther away than that. Most of them were snowcapped, clear signs of the winter that was fast approaching. Heath kept them flying in whatever way that he felt was best, never heading in a particular direction.

Time slipped away. Priscilla had no way of knowing how long they were up there but at this point she didn't care. After awhile she quelled the uneasiness she had felt in her stomach earlier, releasing her death grip on the saddle and gradually leaning back. All of the events and her worries from the past several weeks were entirely forgotten, lost in the splendor of everything around her and blown away like leaves in the wind. The warmth of the sun melted away all of her cares and the people in the world around her ceased to exist.

Heath took them everywhere, flying high enough that the geographic features below them weren't recognizable at all and low enough that they could see squirrels darting across tree branches. Heath guided Hyperion through mountain peaks, navigating the turbulent wind currents with practiced perfection. Several times they passed close enough that Priscilla could almost reach out and touch the rock. The air was much colder at this height and she wished she had brought a cloak or something to put over her. Hyperion didn't seem the least bit tired and Heath never once offered to stop for a break.

Neither of them said much at first, letting themselves drift away in their own thoughts and bask in the wonders before them. In truth, there was no need for words. There was nothing Priscilla could even think of talking about, as if simply being with Heath formed an unspoken bond that she couldn't explain. Never before in her entire life had she let anybody hold her in the way he was now, his left arm about her waist and her body resting comfortably against his. She closed her eyes and let the silence envelope her.

Eventually Heath broke the silence. "So, what to you think of flying Priscilla? Is it everything you thought it would be?"

Priscilla opened her eyes and turned to face him. "Are you serious, Sir Heath? I absolutely love it! I feel completely free up here and that nothing in the world can touch me. I can forget all of my cares and escape everything horrible that's happening in the world right now. Is that how you feel all of the time?"

Heath smiled. "If you were to ask that question of somebody who did not truly possess a love for flying, they would most likely say no. For those of us that live by our lances and the mounts we ride, and this goes for pegasus knights as well, flying is just as natural as breathing. In a way, it must be like that during a battle because you can't be trying to do too many things at once. It's quite like your horsemanship, I suppose."

Priscilla shook her head. "Maybe it's like that during a battle, where instincts and natural rhythm make all of the difference, but it's not the same outside of combat. I love riding my horse whenever I get the opportunity but whether I'm on a horse or not I'm still confined to the ground. But up here…" She trailed off and rested her head on his shoulder and against his neck. She felt his pulse quicken immediately. "Up here freedom has no bounds and there's nowhere you can't go."

"Flying is my passion, Priscilla," Heath replied, pulling her closer to him. "It is my escape from the troubles of everyday life and the horrors of war. I don't see Hyperion as simply my mount during battle; he is my loyal companion and will never leave my side. Flying is his way of life and so mine is as well. Generally I do this to be alone and become lost in my own thoughts, free from the stress that other people put upon me everyday."

Heath looked into her eyes and she peered into his. "However, it's infinitely better having someone, especially someone like you, Priscilla, with me."

She blushed. "Th-thank you, Sir Heath."

"Because being with you gives me a sort of relief that I'm unable to find anywhere else. It makes me feel that I need no one else in the entire world other than you, Priscilla."

Priscilla thought her heart would stop. Had he really just said that? It was probably the last thing she expected to hear from him, especially considering what had happened already. She hadn't known whether or not he felt the same way about her as she did him. If he did, how far did it go and how deep were his feelings toward her? She desperately needed to profess her own thoughts but she couldn't find the right words to say. So she simply smiled back at him and said nothing.

Suddenly she felt extremely tired. They had flown out of the mountains by now and the air had grown warmer again, the sun unobstructed and bearing down on them. Perhaps that was it. Or maybe it was just that she had grown so accustomed to flight already that she was completely comfortable in her current position. She relaxed her body against Heath's own and rested her head against his chest. Still smiling, she closed her eyes, only wanting to rest for a few moments.

She could hear Heath's voice in her ear. "Priscilla, I must tell you something. I…without you, I don't know if I could-" He paused and looked down at her. "Priscilla?"

But she was already asleep.

X

"Shit! Both of you get down, now!"

Raven dropped to the ground like a stone and concealed himself within the bushes, sword gripped tightly in his right hand. Behind him his companions did the same, dashing for the first concealment they could find. Guy darted behind a large boulder and Wil pressed his back against a tree. They had been on the move for several hours and they could see Bern's capital in the near distance, somewhere over the next few hills. Up until they had not gotten even a glimpse of a single solider in Bern's ranks but that had changed when Raven had turned his view skyward.

"Raven!" Guy hissed at him. "What is it? What did you see?"

Raven waved his hand dismissively to silence him and turned his gaze back toward the sky, eyes searching frantically. He knew he had seen something out there, something big, silhouetted against the horizon. Had the sun not broken out of the clouds he may have missed it entirely. Though it had been a ways off and wasn't likely to spot them as they moved furtively through the trees, he wasn't taking any chances. After years of fighting in countless scenarios, he knew better than to assume that he wasn't in any danger.

They waited a few more minutes before Wil stepped out from behind the tree. "Whatever it was, it's likely gone now," he proclaimed. "What was it that you saw, Raven?"

"A wyvern rider," he replied, rising clear of his concealment. "It was still a ways off and not likely that it would even see us but I just wanted to be sure. Out here in these mountains, no where's safe from those wyvern riders."

"But that's to be expected, isn't it?" Guy answered, striding up next to him. "Besides, how do you it wasn't one of our pegasus knights or even Heath?"

Raven snorted. "Ha! Fat chance of that! Even from this distance I could tell it was too big to be a pegasus knight and it would be completely absurd for it to be Heath. No, it had to be an enemy soldier. Why would Heath totally blow us off and go flying around on his wyvern on his own? Seems a bit too unlikely."

Wil chuckled. "Maybe it's because he doesn't like you, Raven! I mean, you haven't given him any reason not to hate you."

Raven whirled on the archer. "You know Wil, sometimes-"

"Wait!" Guy's finger pointed skyward. "There it is again!"

The other two looked up. Sure enough, the wyvern rider was back, flying west toward the setting sun. Only this time it was much closer, close enough that they could clearly tell it was a wyvern. It wasn't flying in a direct path to the west, its movements slow and graceful. Occasionally in would dip back toward the ground and skim the surface of trees, then rise back up and head north or south. There was something familiar about the way it was moving but Raven couldn't put his finger on it.

Wil stepped forward. "I'll take care of this." He nocked an arrow in his bowstring and pointed the weapon skyward. "Give me a clear shot and I'll shoot it down."

"No, wait." Guy pushed Wil's arm down. "Something's wrong. It doesn't appear that this rider is on patrol or anything. Look at the way it's moving. Nothing it does indicates that it's looking for something. In fact, it doesn't appear to be an enemy soldier at all."

Wil let out a heavy sigh. "Oh, come on Guy! At least let me try and hit it. We haven't fought all day and I'm beginning to grow bored. I haven't gotten to feather anyone since we fought in the marshes. That's the reason I came with you in the first place! Even if I do miss, we can still flee before it finds us. Running is the kind of thing I'm good at, you know."

"It doesn't matter!" Raven shouted. "It's coming this way! Hide yourselves!"

The three of them immediately dashed for their respectively hiding places, weapons held ready. Raven hoped that it hadn't seen them and was merely heading this way out of chance. If, in fact, it had seen them they would be forced to fight. Raven didn't care for their odds if that happened. The damage him and Guy could inflict with their swords would be negligible. Only Wil's bow would give them some kind of advantage.

But instead the rider passed over them, not seeing them at all. Its shadow draped over the land, momentarily obscuring the sun from view. Raven looked up as the bulk of the wyvern passed over them and recognized it instantly. The rider was the one person he hadn't thought it would be.

Only he wasn't alone.

Once it was gone, Wil stepped out with a grin on his face. "Ha! I guess you were wrong Raven. It was Heath!" He looked over at Guy. "It was good thing that you didn't have me shoot him down after all, Guy. I can't imagine trying to explain that to him later! Still, it was odd that he wasn't by himself. Who was that with him?"

"I think it was Priscilla," Guy answered.

"Priscilla?"

"Yeah. You know that red haired troubadour that joined us back when we were in Laus? I think that was her with him. Though I can't imagine why she would be flying around with Heath."

Wil shrugged. "You forget. That was before I even knew any of you. But now that you mention it, it did look like her. That is rather odd. Don't you think so, Raven?"

Raven barely heard them. He was still staring back in the direction in which the wyvern rider had flown, its shape becoming more indistinct as it flew farther south. Wil was right. It had been Heath and the one with him was none other Priscilla, his sister. The other two didn't know of the connection between them and they likely didn't care either way.

But why was Priscilla with Heath anyways? Sure, he had noticed that the two of them spent a lot of time together but nothing ever indicated that things would approach this level. While he was uncomfortable with the fact that Heath was a former enemy, the relationship between Heath and Priscilla appeared to be nothing more than a simple friendship and he grudgingly chose to accept that. But this, this he could not stand. He was her brother and regardless of what happened, he was supposed to protect her. Rage boiled up from inside him.

_When I see Heath, I'm going to kill him._

X

Heath set Hyperion on down in the same place that they had taken off. It was late afternoon when they touched down and he was growing tired. Hyperion looked to be a bit fatigued as well so Heath decided to call a day. He didn't want his most trusted companion to be exhausted when a battle arose, which was likely to happen at any given point in time. Besides, he needed to get him and Priscilla back to camp before they were missed. They would have to walk, for flying in would undoubtedly draw unwanted attention.

Walking Hyperion to the center of the cliff, Heath jumped off and retrieved his armor from the bushes. He had only removed his breastplate before and secured it on the rear saddlebag. He then turned his attention to Priscilla. She was still sleeping, and he lifted her off of the saddle as gently as possible as to not disturb her sleep. Cradling her in his arms, he told Hyperion to head back to camp and wait for him there. The wyvern took flight immediately and Heath turned and started walking back through the forest.

The walk back to camp took longer than he had expected, probably due to the fact that he was trying to get blood flowing through his cramped muscles. He hadn't flown for that amount of time in quite awhile and had forgotten what it was like to be up in the air for that long. Flying gave him more exhilaration than battle ever would and when it came to him _that _was saying something.

He looked down at Priscilla. She was still sleeping peacefully, likely unaware that they were on the ground again and heading back to camp. Her head lay against his right shoulder, resting comfortably in the crook of his arm. Her breathing was soft and steady, her chest slowly rising and falling in response. Her red hair gleamed in the sunlight and there was a small smile on her face.

_She's so beautiful, _Heath thought to himself. The feelings he had felt toward her all those days ago in Ostia came rushing back to him and now he understood why he had fallen for her so easily. Initially, it had been her looks that had intrigued him but now it had become something far more than that. He still found her extremely attractive but they had connected in a way he had never done with anyone else. In fact, ever since Isaac and his other companions had been killed, Heath didn't really have anyone he could call his friend. He felt that he could tell Priscilla almost anything he wished and it was likewise for her. With the sole exception of Kent, Priscilla was the only one in the army who treated him as a person and not just as a comrade-in-arms. He trusted her and she trusted him. And if that truly was the case, he should tell her his secret about being a deserter from Bern. If the situation allowed, he would tell her tomorrow.

By then, he had returned to camp at the same point the two of them had departed from hours earlier. No one else was in sight, though he could hear voices in the distance and from inside nearby tents. He wanted to avoid running into anybody else, especially Erk. Heath knew that the mage looked after Priscilla as much as he could. He struck Heath as being a bit overprotective. The mage would be furious if he found out what Heath and Priscilla had been up to.

Moving as silently as possible, he made his way back over to Priscilla's tent. It was tricky since hers was more towards the center of camp, whereas Heath's sat isolated near the forest's edge. When he finally did find it, he slipped in through the back flap to avoid being seen. Once inside, he gently laid Priscilla on the cot to his right. She stirred slightly but did not wake. After sliding a pillow beneath her head he picked up a blanket and covered her with it.

Heath smiled. _I can't ever let anything happen to her. No matter what happens or who comes between us, I will do my utmost to protect her. I am the one that must stand beside her at all times. _He knew that he was asking a lot of himself but it was a promise he fully intended to keep.

Before he left, Heath bent down and kissed Priscilla softly on the cheek. He stared at her a moment longer and silently slipped away.


	10. Chapter 9: Night of Regrets

**A Collision of Fates**

**Chapter Nine: Night of Regrets**

The two wyvern riders crouched at the top of the hill, carefully concealed within a grove of pine trees. Their eyes were sharp and vigilant, following everything that moved. The promontory offered a completely unobstructed view on the valley and the surrounding lands in any direction for miles, giving them total omnipotence over the unsuspecting humans below. But these were the lands no one knew better than them and that was the way it should be. The evening air was cold and still; no winds blew in from the mountains and there was a touch of death in air. Soon the sun would dip below the western peaks and then they would put their plan into action.

They were an odd pair, neither of them at all like the other but deadly in every sense of the word. The one on the left was tall and fit, with a long red mane of hair and a hawk-like face. His thin body allowed him to practically disappear in environments such as these. His companion was comparative in strength if not stronger, with a shorter and stockier build. Though he was far less agile than the tall one and not the ideal wyvern rider his strength made him a nightmare in the field. He was the man who would be surrounded by dozens of axe-hewn carcasses in the aftermath of a battle. His round pig-like face disappeared under a great black beard. Both were dressed in full armor, weapons laid on the ground beside them.

The stocky one spoke up. "What do you think, Brock?" he asked in his deep, guttural voice. "Should we go on and continue with the planned attack? If we signal the others, we can ready in a matter of minutes."

The one known as Brock shook his head. "No, Garet. We wait for the cover of darkness after we've disposed of their sentries. We lose the advantage of stealth and secrecy if we move in while it's still light out. Moving in now would be incredibly foolish and ill-advised. Our orders were quite clear: we are to wait."

Garet grunted. "Pah. Fine." He paused and looked down at the array of tents at the bottom of the valley. "Are you certain that he's really down there?"

"Of that there appears to be little doubt," Brock replied, not bothering to look over at his companion. "Our spies had allegedly tracked him since Ostia but they've disappeared entirely and we haven't heard from them since. Not that it matters anyway. He was spotted during a battle near the capital yesterday and even before that we spotted him flying through the mountains. Don't you remember? As a traitor he wouldn't dare come back to Bern on his own and it only seems fitting that he would be traveling with Eliwood's army. All we need to do is slip in and subdue him before he even knows what's happening."

"You're brilliant as always, Brock," the other replied. Garet turned and flashed a wicked smile. "And what about that red haired lass he was with? Wouldn't it be nice if we could get our hands on her? She certainly had a regal air about her and I can only imagine what it would be like to get my arms around her!" He rubbed his hands together in delight, anxious to have the opportunity to claim such a prize.

Brock returned the smile. "If the situation allows, we shall do so. It would be a shame to leave such a beautiful girl in the hands of an oath breaker, wouldn't it?"

Garet nodded, quite content with the way things stood. He turned his attention back to their mission. "Any more word from the informant?"

Brock shrugged, turning away again. "Nothing else since he talked with General Adholm yesterday. I suppose he thinks if anything else needs to be done it will be done on our end, not his. In exchange for giving us the deserter's location he was promised that no harm would come to him and the rest of the army." He frowned. "Despite all of this, though, the general still doesn't trust him. I don't trust him either. Why would he betray his army to sell out just one man?"

"It's just like you said Brock," Garet replied. "He doesn't want to be killed tonight or in any other skirmish he may be involved with in Bern. Perhaps he has other motivations as well. Maybe he thought it was better to hand the traitor over to us instead of telling Eliwood about him. He could expect reward in turn for his efforts too."

"Ha! Not likely! His Majesty has better things to do than deal with men who have no affiliation whatsoever to Bern, especially men who so are so willing to betray friends and enemies alike. Bern has no need for such scum. That's why we're here in the first place: to kill a traitor to the crown. This man thinks that he's in control of his own fate, but nothing in this world is certain."

"Come sunset it won't matter."

Brock raised an eyebrow. "What makes you say that?"

"General Adholm doesn't intend to keep his end of the bargain, does he?"

Brock smiled again, this time broader than before. "You are exactly right, Garet. He doesn't intend to at all."

X

Heath awoke to find a sword blade pressed against his neck. He had dozed off inside his tent after a rigorous spar with Kent that evening, his body sore and stiff in more places than he could count. They had practiced with real weapons as always, only this time they had gone all out and held nothing back. Exhausted to the point of collapse, he had fallen asleep on his cot and had only bothered to remove his breastplate and left his leg armor on. He hadn't told anybody where he was at. Though he hadn't thought about it, doing so had been a mistake. He should have known better. Now, with a sword to his throat, he realized how costly that mistake might become.

The cold metal brought him awake instantly and the grogginess he should have felt upon awaking was not even in evidence. There were two them in his tent, both well armed and heavily armored. The tall one held the blade to his neck and shorter one stood at the foot of his cot. Both wore crimson red armor and on each of their breastplates, brightly colored and immediately recognizable, was the crest of Bern's wyvern riders: the dragon's head with the crossed spears.

Heath's blood turned to ice and his body went rigid. _No! This isn't happening! They can't have found me! I've taken so many precautions to stay hidden! This has to be a dream, another one of my nightmares. _But he knew that he was lying to himself. He was fully awake and the two men before him were all too real, weapons tangible and faces unmistakable.

He recognized the tall one instantly. The shorter one he couldn't put a name to but the other, the one who held the blade to him, was the one he hated and feared more than any other: the one who had tried to kill him all of those weeks ago and led the hunt against Heath's companions when they had fled Bern. Heath cursed his name.

"Brock."

"Hello, Heath." Brock pulled the sword away and struck Heath on the temple with his right gauntlet. Heath's head snapped back as the metal hit his skull and he thought he heard something crack inside. Lights danced in front of his eyes and he struggled to stay conscious. Blood flowed down his left cheek and he turned his head around to face Brock.

"You will speak only when spoken to, you traitorous bastard!" His eyes flashed with rage and Heath had never heard so much hate in one person's voice. He put the blade back to Heath's throat. "If you speak again or even think about calling for help, I may forget myself and kill you right here and now. You've no idea how long I've been waiting for this moment."

Heath forced himself to stay calm. His pulse quickened. The day he had long feared for the past several weeks had come at last. Bern's wyvern riders had found him. His past had finally caught up to him. All of those days running and trying in vain to remain incognito were wasted. He had planned on staying with Eliwood's army until this conflict was ended and deciding on a course of action from there, hoping he would know what to do when the time came.

But now he was under the arrest of two of Bern's most powerful Wyvern Knights, each of whom was more than a match for Heath on his own. No one would come to find him; no one even knew he was here. He cursed himself for his stubbornness of isolating his tent on the edges of camp. He had no weapons, save for _Salvatore _that lay the foot of his cot, all but unreachable. A lot of good it did him to have his weapons nearby.

Heath couldn't keep the nervousness from his voice. "H-How d-did you find me? I didn't think that anyone would know where to look for me."

"You know, it's funny you would ask that," Brock replied, walking to the end of Heath's cot and picking up _Salvatore_. He balanced the lance in both hands, admiring its beauty. "You did the exact opposite of what we thought you might do. We all figured that you were wandering around Lycia somewhere or maybe even going to Etruria or Ilia, trying to blend in and disappear so that we would never find you again. But we never thought that you would actually join up with the Lycian Army; the very same army that was on its on way to Bern to fight the Black Fang! It seems fairly obvious to me. Our informant told us much about you."

Heath's heart sank. Now he understood. They had seen him the other day when he had gone out flying with Priscilla. Had he just followed his original intentions upon joining the army and not to get involved with its members, all of this could have been avoided. But he had let his feelings for Priscilla get in the way of his reason and gone out from under the protective shroud of the army. And look what had happened because of it. But what of this informant? Who had betrayed him? There were several people that were suspicious of him, but surely Brock couldn't mean…

_Raven or Hector. It had to have been one of them._

Brock sighed heavily. "Heath…why is it you're with these people? Do you really think you belong here? That you're "one of them"? Don't be absurd! You are a deserter, Heath! You don't belong anywhere! You are the lowest form of life imaginable: an oath breaker, a traitor, a man without honor or dignity. You left behind everything that would ever mean anything in your entire life! You turned your back on us!" He struck Heath with the butt of the lance, bringing the full force of the weapon down on his chest. Heath heard one, maybe two, of his ribs crack and he gasped air, face scrunching up in pain. Blood oozed from the wound and seeped into his clothing, leaving a red stain on his tunic.

"I…only…" He wheezed and took another deep breath. "I fight for the good of this land…so that…no more innocent lives will be pointlessly sacrificed…"

Brock shook his head. "Don't talk like you're one of them! You're not and you never will be. Have you even told them the truth about yourself? What do you suppose they would think if they found out they had a filthy deserter in their mist? I don't imagine they would think too highly of you after that, certainly not that red haired wench you were with the other day."

His companion chuckled. "Hey Brock, do you think that if she knew, she would want to be with a more honorable man? Someone who won't leave her for somebody else? If we can spirit her away tonight, we could force her to do what we wanted and no one would even know!"

Heath became angry. "No! Don't you dare touch her! If you so much as go near Priscilla I'll-"

"You'll do what, Heath?" Brock smirked and put the sword back to his throat. "You are in no position to make death threats, Heath. Besides, she's not the reason we're here in the first place."

Heath swallowed hard. "What is it that you want then, Brock?" He kept his voice firm and steady, though he could not force his body to stop shaking. "Are you here to kill me? If you are, you might as well get it over with. There's nothing I can do to stop you from doing so."

Brock smiled. "Heath, you are such a fool! Oh, I do intend to kill you, make no mistake of that. But just think about things for a moment. Why is it that you've lived this long? Why? There's been a bounty on your head since you fled Bern weeks ago! King Desmond wants you brought back alive. Dead men have no value, after all. His Majesty is gracious enough to let you beg for your life before you get to die. He wants to hear you say why you deserted your country in such an abrupt manner." He looked over at his companion. "What do you think, Garet? Is the king's kindness unwarranted?"

Garet nodded. "I certainly think so. It matters not why Heath left, it only remains that he actually did it. Betrayers and oath breakers have no more reason to live than the livestock that are slaughtered at the end of each season." He strode over and stood next to Brock. "General Murdock is of the same mind. He would rather have you killed on sight rather than see one of his traitorous knights return to the realm alive."

_Murdock. _Heath shuddered. He had completely forgotten about him. General Murdock, the Wyvern General of Bern, tolerated treason far less than the king did. Murdock had, albeit only for a short while, trained Heath as a wyvern rider before being promoted. Heath respected him, but the general had a terrible temperament when it came to disobeying orders and, in this case, desertion. Death may find him quicker than he thought.

"But there is something that we must know." Brock pulled his sword away again, sheathed it and grabbed Heath by the tunic collar, pulling him off his cot and to eye level with him. "It _does _matter to us _why _you deserted Bern. You turned your back on the oaths you swore when you were knighted. You were once one of the most skilled wyvern knights Bern ever had, the strongest in your entire unit! Never once did any of us question your loyalty or even think you would desert us. You were even close to being given command of your own unit! So tell me: why the hell did you leave?"

"You both know perfectly well why," Heath responded, meeting Brock's hard gaze and ignoring the pain in his chest and head. "How soon you forget, Brock. Or is it that you'd rather not recall what happened? Don't you remember the incident that prompted me to leave in the first place? Recall that "uprising" in the country several days before I left Bern. Did you forget that it wasn't an uprising at all but a simple group of unarmed peasants in the countryside? It was a rumor and nothing more. A lie. A lie circulated by _your _General Adholm, if memory serves me correctly!"

Brock and Garet said nothing, furtively exchanging looks. Heath smiled inwardly. Perhaps these two weren't as tough as they pretended to be. Rough looks and hard voices only got you so far. Only their boasting as wyvern knights showed any strength at all. The true strength of a wyvern rider came from his heart and his selfless desire to help others. From what Heath had seen neither of these men possessed any of those qualities.

"And surely you remember what happened next." Heath had them right where he wanted them, growing more confident now. "The king himself ordered that these so-called rebels be put to death. Every wyvern knight on that frontier was expected to answer the call, including yourselves. Both of you were under orders from General Adholm to kill these people, even after seeing that they had no intention of fighting at all. They literally turned and ran at the sight of us! They were terrified of us. But all you saw were people that had rebelled against the crown and then rained savage death upon these innocents!"

Heath knew he was getting in deeper than he should but he pressed forward anyway. "When my unit tried to stop you, General Adholm condemned us to die for our treason. What's more, he spread the word that we were to hang for slaughtering innocent lives. Just the thought of being publicly humiliated in such a fashion terrified us. We would receive no quarter from the king or forgiveness from the people. With nowhere else to go, we turned our coats and ran while the lot of you received commendation for your actions. We had no other choice."

Heath felt Brock's grip on his tunic lessen slightly. "My unit didn't kill those people. You and your murderous pack of curs did. You know the truth of it as well as I. By telling yourselves these lies for so long you've become convinced that what you think is the truth. You don't even bother to think about how things truly happened. How pathetic. You and your king wrongfully condemn me for the murderous acts that you committed. So you tell me Brock. Who's the real traitor here? From what I can tell, you and Garet-"

"SHUT UP!" Brock had heard enough. He released his grip on Heath's collar and punched him in the face, followed by a kick to Heath's abdomen. Heath doubled over and dropped to the floor, gasping for air and clutching his stomach in pain. His vision blurred and his head spun like a tornado. He couldn't take much more of this. If we was going to have any chance of escaping with his life he would need every ounce of strength he could muster.

Brock glared down at him. "The words of a traitorous knight mean nothing! If you had any recollection of the vows you swore, you would remember that a knight is to follow his liege and lord to the very gates of the abyss. It does not matter what deeds we are ordered to perform. A knight is in no position to question the knowledge of his superiors. Our allegiance to the crown is clearly more important to us than it ever was to you!"

"And if you possessed any shred of common sense you would realize that's a weak argument at best," Heath said, rising shakily to his feet and leaning next to the cot to steady himself. He positioned himself near the pillow at its head. "All I see in you is arrogance and a misguided sense of loyalty to Bern. They say that blind arrogance sows the seeds of its own destruction. Something tells me they were talking about you. You two think yourselves knights. You don't know the meaning of the word. A knight's duty first and foremost is to selflessly serve and protect the people of his country. That I _do _remember from the day I was knighted. A knight lives and dies by the lance he holds and in service to the people. He is loyal to the king, yes, but only if that king is just in his rule."

Heath rose up to full height and Brock stepped back slightly. "Allegiance is a two edged sword. Both sides must be upheld lest the blade falls asunder. That is why I left. I could not continue to protect a man who put himself before his people. Your king and Bern itself are not what they once were. Your king has committed such atrocities that would make even you question your loyalty, things that go far beyond killing innocent people. The other knights and nobles know this, yet they turn a blind eye to the matter. King Desmond is worthless and nothing more than a thief. He recklessly abuses his power and cares nothing for the people he leads. Bern would be far better off with Prince Zephiel in his stead."

Garet thrust his arm out and wrapped his massive hand around Heath's neck. "You dare insult His Imperial Majesty, maggot? Your king? Men have forfeited their lives for less."

Heath shook his head. "I already told you. King Desmond is longer my king. I've no desire to serve such a man or a country that commits crimes and passes them off with some ridiculous form of justification. Bern is dead to me. I renounced any ties I had to it when I left, taking only Hyperion and my lance with me. It is true: I am a deserter. Nothing more. But I have come to terms with that now and I will no longer further the corruption of Bern's nobility. Kill me if you will, but I will not go quietly back to the capital."

Garet squeezed harder, the veins on his arm popping out, brow furrowed in anger and concentration. Perhaps Heath had said too much and gotten himself in deeper than he could handle. But what needed to said was already said. No further words were necessary. If his two adversaries decided not to kill him here, he would at the very least slip into unconsciousness from Garet's death grip. The result would be the same either way, he supposed.

A shuffling of feet outside of his tent got his attention and his eyes darted toward the front of the tent. Brock and Garet had apparently heard it as well and all three of them froze. They waited for a few more moments and still heard nothing. Whoever was outside the tent was remaining silent, waiting to see how things played out. _Maybe it was just the wind, _Heath thought.

Then a voice penetrated the silence. "Heath? Are you alright?"

It was Kent. Garet turned his head on the direction of Kent's voice and Heath acted instantly. He reached out and pulled the dagger out from underneath his pillow and thrust it into Garet's neck. Blood spurted forth, spraying the entire tent. The bulky wyvern rider screamed in agony and dropped to the floor, nearly taking Heath with him. Brock was already moving, shielding his eyes against the crimson fountain of blood erupting from his dying companion, fleeing toward the rear of the tent. Leaving the dagger embedded in Garet's throat, Heath charged after Brock as the other dropped _Salvatore _and fled the tent. But Brock was much faster and was at the forest's edge by the time Heath burst out of the tent.

Brock screamed out to his companions somewhere within the forest. "Commence with the attack! Burn this camp to the ground and find the deserter!" Glancing back at Heath, he smiled and disappeared into the trees.

Realizing there was no help for it, Heath charged back into his tent and retrieved _Salvatore. _Kent was there then, dressed in full armor and sword unsheathed in his left hand. He recoiled at the sight of Garet writhing around on the floor and looked at Heath in disgust. Heath hastily put on his breastplate and strapped his spare blade to his belt.

"Heath, what's going on?" Kent demanded, still unable to take his eyes off he dying man. "I heard shouting coming from inside your tent and I thought I would come check on you-"

"There's no time!" Heath replied curtly, shoving his way past Kent. "This entire camp is going to be under attack! We have to warn the others!" The two rushed out of the tent in a frenzy, leaving Garet to drown in a pool of his own blood.

They ran as fast as their bodies would allow, encumbered by the weight of their armor and weapons. Heath pulled out the whistle from his pocket and blew into it hard. He hoped that Hyperion would be there in time but the odds were against them. They were too far away from the center of the camp. Heath could already hear screams in the distance and the roars of wyverns rent the air. They were going to be too late. Heath cursed himself once again for setting his tent up in such an isolated location.

After what seemed to be an eternity, Heath and Kent finally rushed into the main camp. The area was complete mayhem. Wyvern knights and soldiers of Eliwood's army alike were everywhere, embroiled in a battle for their very lives. There were dozens of the former, outnumbering the latter at least two to one. Many of tents were ablaze and weapons glinted in the firelight. The heat was immense and clouds of smoke billowed into the air, obscuring the moon and the night sky from view. Upon seeing Heath, several of the dismounted wyvern riders rush him from all sides, charging in recklessly with no concern for their own lives whatsoever.

"Kent! Back-to-back!" He pressed his shoulders against Kent's own and prepared to meet the attack. They came at them all at once, surrounding the two of them in a tightly formed mob. Heath and Kent withstood the rush almost effortlessly, putting the tactics they had practiced in training to good use here. Kent swung his blade with absolute perfection, cutting down three wyvern knights in a matter of seconds. Using Kent as his support, Heath acted as an impenetrable wall, tossing his enemies to the side with _Salvatore_ and impaling them with the spear point once they were vulnerable. They broke against Heath and Kent's defenses like water against solid rock.

But their stand did not last long. A wyvern rider flew down from the smoke screen above them and flew straight into them, forcing Heath to jump to the side. The wyvern's teeth barely missed his unprotected head and Heath could smell the horrible stench on its breath. Kent battled his way past several more enemies before fleeing off into the tents, hoping to draw some of fighting away from Heath and the others.

Heath disposed of the remaining enemies around him and sprinted toward the maelstrom in the center of the camp, hoping Hyperion would find him there in the light of the fire. He stopped dead in his tracks, however, when a wyvern rider dove out of the smokescreen in front of him and flew directly towards him.

It was Brock. His red mane of hair was unmistakable even among the dozens of riders around him. His wyvern was bigger than any Heath had ever seen, with jet black scales and aptly named Obsidian. Lance lifted in his right hand, Brock glided over the soldiers fighting below him and directed Obsidian lower, skimming just above the ground.

Heath panicked. He back away slightly, holding his lance tightly in both hand. There was nowhere to run. He was stuck out in the open and no place to duck for cover. It would take nothing short of a miracle to dodge Brock's attack, though he may have one chance…

"HYPERION!"

Hyperion burst out of the smoke to Brock's left and slammed into Brock's wyvern with a thunderous crash. Hyperion was far smaller than Obsidian but just as strong and the impact threw Brock from his saddle and sent the wyvern rider tumbling to the ground, lance coming free of his hand. Heath rushed forward, anxious to take advantage of the situation. Hyperion struggled fiercely with Obsidian, claws slashing and jaws snapping angrily. The two fell into the fiery inferno of a nearby tent and rolled into the forest beyond, tree limbs snapping apart as they did.

Already Brock was back on his feet and drawn the broadsword strapped across his back. Instead of remaining in the same spot, he charged at Heath, screaming wildly. He brought the blade down on _Salvatore _and Heath blocked the blow with the shaft of the lance.

"Heath! I am going to kill you for what you have done!" Hatred flashed in Brock's eyes and he struck time and again, each blow more aggressive than the one before it. Heath was forced to draw the sword at his belt to block the strikes. "I've killed every single one of your companions and now you will be next! Garet's death is on your head! Since that is the case, allow me to remove it for you!"

He swung the broadsword at Heath's neck with stunning quickness but Heath was faster still. He ducked away from the blow and swung his own sword out, a diagonal upper cut that slashed open Brock's unprotected abdomen. The steel blade ripped through flesh and bone and the wyvern rider fell back, clutching his stomach as blood flowed freely from the wound. The broadsword fell to the ground and Brock dropped to his knees.

"Ha…ha…I've lost." Brock gasped, coughing up blood as Heath stepped forward. "I suppose this is my judgment for…my complicity…in this evil." He looked up at Heath. "I never thought I would die by your hands, Heath. You were the greatest out of all of us and when you turned traitor I didn't know what to think. I hunted you for weeks, just wanting to hear you say why you deserted Bern before you got to die. Garet and I thought we could force you to change your opinion of the king before we took you back to the capital. The thought never entered out minds that your convictions were so strong you would kill us before even listening to us." He forced a weak laugh. "Ah, what a severe miscalculation we made…"

Heath shook his head. "Brock, if you had truly thought about why I left then maybe you would not have branded me a deserter in the first place or even hunted me down. My companions and I were never the ones truly at fault. As with Garet, you deserve nothing more than slow and agonizing death. But you have shown that you possess some of the honor that befits a wyvern knight of Bern. So as my last act of compassion, I will make your death a swift and merciful one. Have you any final words?" He raised his lance.

"She's dead because of you."

Heath frowned. "What do you mean? Who are you talking about?"

Brock closed his eyes and smiled. "It's ironic, really. You tried so hard to protect yourself and the others around you and yet you're the reason it's happened. You thought to protect them by not telling them your secret, only wanting to save them from yourself. In the end it didn't matter."

Brock opened his eyes. "I'm talking about that girl you're always with. Priscilla, was it? I found her in her tent. I held a knife to her and tried to take her but she wouldn't have any of it. Tough girl, that one. She struggled and tried to run and call for help. Deciding it was more trouble than it was worth, I ran that dagger through her body and fled. I knew she was important to you, Heath. You told me that much earlier. You stole Garet from me, so I thought what better way to punish you than to take the life of the one you loved?"

"NO!" Heath thrust the lance down through Brock's chest, just under the breastplate. The other man let out a scream that sent chills down Heath's spine. The spear point protruded from Brock's back and was shining in the firelight. Brock's face was turned toward the sky, mouth still agape, eyes hollow and lifeless. Heath held the weapon in place for a few more moments before pulling it away. Brock's corpse crumpled to the ground and did not move again. At last, any ties he held to Bern were severed.

Remembering Brock's final words, his thoughts turned abruptly. _Priscilla!_

He rushed through main camp, straining his already exhausted muscles. Heath began to tire after only a few moments but kept going, spurred on by his fear and determination. He vaulted over bodies and around supply wagons and tents. The battle appeared to be over, the remaining wyvern riders in full retreat. People gave him strange looks as he ran past, wondering why he was in such a hurry. Everywhere he went the destruction was terrible. Almost everything had been destroyed or incinerated by the fires. Tents lay in ruins and bodies littered the ground, the latter which he could not tell if they belonged to his army or Bern's.

_This is entirely my fault, _Heath thought in dismay. _Everything that's happened is all due to my foolishness and selfishness. Please, don't let Priscilla be the one to pay for all of this! _He finally emerged into the clearing where Priscilla's tent was at, his eyes searching frantically.

At first, he didn't see anything. The fires here had already burned themselves out and the entire area was covered in darkness. These tents hadn't been entirely destroyed, the fires extinguished before they could spread. It appeared that this area had been hit first and whoever had been here before was now somewhere else. He couldn't see the outlines of any bodies on the ground and it was very possible Brock had simply been lying to him. Maybe Priscilla was elsewhere at the moment…

Then he saw her. A shift in the wind blew the smoke away to the east and revealed the brightness of the night sky. Priscilla was lying on the ground, body fully illuminated in the moonlight. She was unmoving, curled up next to her tent. Heath rushed to her side and dropped to his knees, throwing _Salvatore _off to the side.

In one hand she clutched the bloodied dagger that Brock had used to stab to her and in the other she held her Mend staff. Her left side was torn open and her clothes were soaked with blood. Bruises covered her face. Her hands were bloodied and the skin on her knuckles had torn away. She had struggled valiantly to escape with Brock had attacked her, but to avail. Anger boiled from inside of Heath upon seeing her like this, furious that anyone could treat a girl this way. While he was glad Brock was dead and gone, Heath cursed himself for not killing him sooner.

Heath gently turned her over and bent close to her face. Tears welled up in his eyes. "P-Priscilla?" he choked.

She stirred and opened her eyes. Upon seeing him, she smiled. "Sir Heath…I'm glad you found me…I didn't think anyone would come for me."

She was still alive! Heath shook his head. "I'm so sorry, Priscilla! This is all my fault! If I hadn't been such a fool, none of this would have happened. I should have been the only one killed tonight. If I had, you wouldn't have gotten hurt." Taking the dagger from her hand, he carefully lifted her from the ground and held her in his arms. He brushed the hair from her eyes and fought back the urge to cry but already tears were running down his cheeks. A feeling of immense failure washed over him. How could he have let this happen?

"You mustn't say such things, Sir Heath. I'm glad you are unharmed. I wouldn't want you to get to get hurt again while I wasn't around, would I?" She closed her eyes again. "But why did this have to happen? Who was that man in the red armor? He mentioned your name, Sir Heath. Did you know him?"

Heath swallowed. "He…He…" Heath couldn't bring himself to finish. He couldn't bear to tell her. Not now. Not while he had such precious little time left. He had to get her to Serra or Lord Pent before she lost too much blood. Time was against them and if he didn't get Priscilla out here, she would certainly die.

Priscilla reached out to touch Heath's face. Her skin was as cold as ice. "Heath…I…I don't want to die. Please, you mustn't let me die. You promised that you would protect me…"

"I won't let you die, Priscilla. I made a promise to protect you no matter what happened. I intend to keep that promise." He rose to his feet, gently cradling her in his arms. He still held the dagger in his left hand. "I need to get you back to the others, Priscilla. I'll take care of you." Leaving _Salvatore _on the ground, he turned to head back from where he came.

Heath had taken no more than two steps when he stopped dead in his tracks. Raven and Erk were standing at the edge of clearing, weapons held ready. No one spoke but Heath could tell what they were thinking from the look in their eyes. They saw Priscilla's limp and bloodied form and the red dagger in Heath's hand. Heath was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Heath was about to tell them the truth but Raven's scream cut him short.

"NO! Heath, you craven dastard! What have you done?"


	11. Chapter 10: Secrets Revealed

**A Collision of Fates**

**Chapter Ten: Secrets Revealed**

"Heath! What in hell's name have you done to Priscilla?"

Heath stepped back. "I haven't done anything, Raven! She isn't dead, if that's what you're thinking! I have to see to it that she receives treatment. She lives still! If you would just allow me to explain-"

Raven was furious and would hear nothing of it. He ignored everything that Heath had said and raised his sword, taking a few steps forward. "I don't want to hear your lies, traitor! Look at the situation that we've found you in! Here you stand in the aftermath of a battle, holding a blood coated dagger in your right hand and Priscilla's unmoving body in your arms. Tell me how that would look to you if our positions were reversed! Though it doesn't surprise me in the least that you would try to do something this cowardly. I've seen you two together quite a lot, Heath. Your motives had me puzzled first but now I understand why. Why else would you spend time together other than to betray her? Did you purposely wait for something like this to carry out your plan? Why have you killed her?"

Now it was Heath's turn to be angry. Of all of the reactions he had expected to get this was the very last. "How dare you accuse me of such a thing, Raven! I would never even consider hurting Priscilla let alone doing something like this! Your rage blinds your judgment! Did it ever cross your mind that we simply spent time together because we cared about one another? That we became friends because we had no one else?"

Heath paused and backed away even further. He looked down at Priscilla to find that her eyes were closed. She was unconscious. Heath could still feel her pulse but it was slow and faint. He was running out of time. Every minute he stayed here arguing with Raven was a wasted chance to save Priscilla's life. Her life was fading rapidly and if he didn't get her to Serra or Lord Pent soon, it would be too late and she would be gone. He looked back up at Raven.

"But why should you care so much her anyways, Raven? It shouldn't be any of your business who she spends her time with. It's not as if you even acknowledged her existence thus far!"

"Because she's my sister, that's why!"

Immediately Raven realized that he had made a mistake. In his rage, he had allowed his emotions to get the best of him and revealed something he hadn't meant to. He stopped advancing on Heath and lowered his blade. Neither of them said anything or even moved, both afraid of what might happen if they did. The night air around them had gone completely still and silent. The smoke from the fires had dissipated and moonlight filled the area. Heath stared at Raven and the swordsman stared back at him, eyes filled with hate.

"Wait a minute…Priscilla is your sister?" It was Erk who had spoken. Heath had entirely forgotten about him. The mage was remaining far more calm than Raven. "How is that even possible? Priscilla was a part of House Cornwell in Ostia before Count Caerleon of Etruria adopted her when she was six years old. After House Cornwell was destroyed for its corruption, its nobility was dispersed. I didn't think that-" He stopped short, as if coming to a realization. "Hold on. Raven, is it possible that you're Lord Raymond of House Cornwell?"

Heath was confused. "Cornwell? Caerleon? Those are noble houses in Ostia and Etruria! Does that mean that Priscilla is…" He trailed off, not quite believing what he was hearing.

Raven, too, was at a loss for words. His body was shaking, though Heath couldn't tell if was out of rage or nervousness. "I…It's…not important…Ah! Forget it! It doesn't matter who I was in the past. What matters is who I am now! Raymond is a name I no longer recognize. It's something I discarded long ago." He raised his sword again and pointed the blade at Heath. "What remains is that you've done this to Priscilla, Heath! Now give her too me or I shall do so by force!"

Despite this, Heath stubbornly shook his head. "No. I promised to get her back to camp-"

"FINE!" Raven charged at him and Heath thought he surely meant to kill him. He might have but as Raven raised his sword to strike the ground between them was suddenly ablaze. A wall of fire erupted from the ground in a blazing inferno and Raven was forced to stop short. Both of them recoiled from the searing flames in surprise, shocked at its sudden appearance. The heat was so intense that Heath could feel the metal in his armor heating up by simply by his proximity to the fire. The flames extended to the edge of the clearing in either direction, barely licking the trees at the edge and blocking Raven's path forward. Heath and Raven looked to find Erk gripping his spell book and right arm raised, his brow furrowed in concentration. Heath didn't move but Raven whirled on the mage.

"Erk! What are you doing?" He took a few steps toward him. "Why do you protect him? He's a traitor! Look what he's done to Priscilla! Aren't you just as angry as I am? Don't you even care about what happens to Priscilla? We can't just let him live!"

"Control yourself, Raven!" the mage responded, refusing to lower his magic. "If you would just think for a minute and not allow your anger to cloud your judgment, you would see the truth in what Heath is saying. You didn't hear a word he said, did you? Priscilla is still alive! I do care about her. More than you know, Raven. That's why we have to let Heath take her back to camp before she's completely lost to us! All you're doing is preventing him from where he needs to go! You're only making the situation worse. If you don't let him pass-"

"What's going on here?"

The three of them turned. Apparently their shouting had gotten the attention of the rest of the army. Eliwood, Hector and Lyn were standing at the edge of the clearing, along with half of the army. No, Heath thought, nearly all of them. No one appeared to be missing, which implied that nobody had been killed Bern's attack. Nonetheless, all of them were covered with blood and grime after their hard-fought battle with Bern's wyvern riders and many still held their weapons, some leaning on them for support. Heath was pleased to see that Kent was there, for the cavalier might be able to back him up in this situation. But the first thing they noticed was not the fire burning on the ground but Heath holding Priscilla and the dagger in his arms. Coming to the same conclusion Raven and Erk had only moments ago, whispers and shouts began to filter through the crowd.

_They'll want to have me killed for this, _Heath thought in despair. _As of right now, it doesn't matter what I tell them. They will still see me as a traitor and a murderer, nothing more. Unless I can get Priscilla or even Kent to vouch for me, I'm as good as dead._

"Do not make me repeat myself again!" This was the first time Heath had actually seen Eliwood get angry. "Well? Is anyone going to tell me what this is all about?"

Erk lowered his wall of flames separating Heath and Raven and stepped forward. "Lord Eliwood, it appears that Heath has betrayed us to Bern and tried to take Lady Priscilla's life."

Heath was stunned. He had thought Erk would not be so quick to accuse him. He had figured Raven would be the one to do that. Heath looked over at Eliwood. "That's a lie! I haven't done any harm to her! I found her like this after the battle. One of the enemy soldiers must have done it. Raven and Erk simply came in at the wrong time! I was taking her back to camp when they found me. She's very near death and we have to help her! Please, you must believe me!" Tears began to well up in his eyes again.

"Don't listen to him, Eliwood," Raven said, casting a menacing look in Heath's direction. "He's nothing but a lying and traitorous-"

"Lord Eliwood, if I may?" Pent stepped forward from behind Lyn. His robes were stained with blood and his normally tidy silver hair was a mess. A large cut ran down his left arm but he seemed oblivious to the pain. Eliwood looked in his direction. "This bickering is pointless. Whether or not what Heath tells us is true the fact remains that we must help Priscilla while we still can. Surely you must all feel the same way?" Eliwood nodded and Pent looked at Heath. "Bring her to me, Heath."

Heath quickly obliged, keeping his distance from Raven as he approached Pent. He could feel the swordsman's cold gaze in the back of his head. Pent did not even look at Heath as he handed Priscilla over to him, purposely averting his eyes toward the ground. Pent cradled Priscilla in his arms in the fashion Heath had and retreated back toward camp without another word, followed closely by his wife Louise and the cleric Serra.

"As I was saying," Raven continued, watching the other three disappear back into the trees and drawing the attention back to himself. "It's Heath's fault that our camp was attacked to begin with. He's the reason Priscilla's going to die if Pent can't help her! Didn't any of you stop to wonder why Bern's wyvern's riders decided to attack us? We've had no quarrel with them since we entered Bern so why would they attack us unprovoked? What would prompt them to do such a thing?"

Eliwood folded his arms across his chest. "On what grounds to you accuse Heath of this, Raven? Heath is a wyvern rider, yes, but if he wanted to go back to Bern he could have just left or gone with Bern's soldiers when they came looking for him. Surely they wouldn't attack our entire camp solely due to Heath's presence in our army. They would have needed other reasons to attack us. Do you have any proof of your claims?"

Heath actually smiled. Eliwood excelled in the many things he put his hand to, but none more than acting as a diplomat. His calm demeanor and brilliant mind made him perfect for the role. He never took sides, even after hearing both ends of an argument, quite content to remain completely neutral. Rather, he attempted to find solutions that would satisfy both of the opposing parties. His tone was impartial and he was never quick to judge one side or the other, if he judged at all. Heath didn't understand how anyone could be that way all of the time, especially when the arguing became more intense. He greatly admired Eliwood for that and wished he possessed more of those traits.

Raven shrugged, his hard eyes sliding toward Heath. "He's a deserter from Bern, that's why."

Heath thought that his heart would stop. He looked over at Raven and everyone else looked at him. No one spoke. Had Raven really just said what Heath thought he had said? How had he known? The story Heath had given Eliwood when he first joined the army was about as solid as he could make it. Not rock solid, but good enough not arouse any veritable suspicion. Hector had already confronted him about this but Heath thought that matter had been dropped and was in the past. Hector had, after all, come to the wrong conclusion about him.

Heath hadn't even indicated in the slightest that he was a deserter. He hadn't spoken of why he was going from Bern to Pherae or even why he had decided to join up with Eliwood's army. Sure it wasn't hard to put two and two together but it wasn't possible that Raven could have found out.

He looked back at Eliwood and others, trying to judge their reaction. He couldn't find one but as he looked over Lyn's eyes met his. "Heath?" she asked. "Is this true?"

There was something about the way she said it that it would be wrong to lie to her. He hesitated and backed away. "I…I…well, not exactly…" He couldn't find the right words to say. He had been so confident when admitting the very same thing to Brock and Garet earlier that night but that was only because the two of them already knew the truth. He had worked so hard to keep his secret from those in his own army, only wanting to earn their trust and not burden them with such problems. There were so many in the army that held loyalty to their own nation that if they knew Heath had deserted his own country, they would want nothing to do with him. By refusing to tell them, Heath realized, he had essentially been lying to them. A trust built on lies would certainly not last.

But something wasn't right here. Raven shouldn't have been able to know or figure things out on his own. He couldn't have. That had been the reason why Heath had been avoiding the swordsman for the past several days. Raven must have had help from somewhere, presumably Bern's wyvern knights.

Raven was the one who had sold him out.

"Raven," Heath ventured, ignoring the looks he was getting from the others. "One of the wyvern riders who found me said something of an informant. Was that you?" It was a stupid question, he knew, for Raven would never voluntarily tell him unless he was pressured into doing so.

"How I found out is none of your business, Heath," Raven replied coldly. "I simply figured it out on my own, though it wasn't that hard to discover the truth anyways. All I had to do-"

"He lies!" Sain shouted from somewhere behind Hector, rushing to the head of the group. Everyone looked at him questionably. "Just yesterday I saw Raven talking to three men in the forest! Each of them were wearing crimson armor and bore Bern's crest on their armor plating."

Guy shoved Sain none too gently. "Why haven't you spoken of this before?" he demanded as Sain turned to face him. "Surely you must have suspected something at the time and if you told somebody about it, this could have all been avoided!"

Sain shoved him back, taking that Guy was framing him for this and clearly offended by it. "Don't blame this on me, Guy! I haven't done anything wrong! After all, I'm not the one who ran out on impulse with Wil and Raven the other day to hunt for enemy soldiers. For all we know, it could have been you three that gave away our position, even unknowingly!"

Guy drew his sword. "Have it your way then. Let's see if your lance is as sharp as your tongue!"

Lyn had to step between them. "Hey!" she shouted, pushing the two of them apart. "Stop it, both of you! What does any of this accomplish? We're all tired and exhausted from the battle and this is no time to start pointing fingers! If we start fighting amongst ourselves we're done for. This isn't going to get us anywhere. Now Sain, can you tell us anything else? Did you happen to hear what they were saying?"

"I don't know," Sain replied, shrugging. "I was on my way back to camp from my watch post when I saw them. I was too far away to catch most of what they were saying. I didn't want to eavesdrop but I did hear the word "deserter" mentioned several times and then something about payment of some sort. After they had finished speaking, they shook hands, as if they had just made some kind of deal."

"A deal, perhaps," Kent added, stepping up next to his friend, "to turn Heath over to them and possibly even to attack our camp after doing so. Providing Sain's information is reliable, why else would Raven even associate with Bern's wyvern knights?"

Shouts arose from the group, fingers pointing at Heath and Raven both. They very well understood what this meant. Raven had sold them out and Heath was nothing but a murderer. The ones that they thought they could trust were traitors. They called out for Heath and Raven to be banished from the army or even to be killed. They wanted nothing more to do with them. Let them hang, they shouted. Kill them before they can cause any more harm, others cried. Heath had allegedly tried to kill Priscilla and Raven had betrayed them to Bern, resulting in the destruction of their camp. Eliwood and Lyn were eventually able to calm the rabble and it was all they could do to keep the members of their army losing control and killing the two traitors.

Kent looked over at Heath. "Heath, are…are you telling us the truth? Are you really a deserter of your king and country? Did you really turn your back on being a knight?" Heath could hear the hurt and disappoint in Kent's voice. Kent had thought Heath to be just and honorable, a trustworthy companion worth having by his side during battle. But now, knowing this truth, his opinion of Heath had been turned completely upside down. Heath couldn't say he blamed him.

Heath nodded and swallowed hard. There was no help for it now. "Yes, Kent. I am a deserter."

Hector stepped forward. "I see. Now it all makes sense," he said, stopping just a few feet in front of Raven. "How could none of us have seen it? Heath, you joined us in the first place not because you wanted to benefit our cause and help us fight the Black Fang but because you were running from Bern and you needed protection. You knew that if you remained by yourself any longer Bern's wyvern knights would eventually find you. When that happened, you were as good as dead. So what better way to protect yourself than to join up with another army so that you wouldn't have to look after yourself any longer? First it was Eubans and his mercenaries but you turned on them to come over to our side. Regardless of your reasons for doing so you betrayed your employer. That's exactly what you did when you left Bern, turning your back on your king. Now you claim to support Eliwood and his endeavors but you've shown nothing but betrayal thus far in your life, Heath. Why should we expect any better?" There were nods and murmurs of approval from behind him.

"I had my reasons for leaving Bern in the first place!" Heath exclaimed out of desperation, hoping he could still save what honor he had left. He was fighting a losing battle and he could run while he still had time. But he didn't want to be seen as a coward so he stood his ground. "Surely you can't think my loyalty to Bern something I would just lightly throw away! I didn't join you just so that I could hide from Bern. I always felt I could do something to help your army! And more importantly, I didn't try and kill Priscilla! Everything that happened was an accident. I never planned on betraying you-"

"Yet you've betrayed us nonetheless!" Hector interrupted. "Look what's happened here tonight, Heath! Half of our camp is in ruins because of you and Raven! Just about everything we have was completely incinerated by the fires. Our tents have been reduced to nothing more than piles of ashes. The supplies we bought in town yesterday have been completely destroyed. We have virtually nothing left. And compounding this, you take the opportunity to betray us and attempt to kill those you proclaimed to care about. It was Priscilla tonight but if we let you stay in this army, who will it be next? Why should we assume that you won't try this again?"

At that moment Heath knew he had lost. He was on the verge of breaking down entirely. The walls and defenses he had so carefully put up around himself completely shattered. His resolve to stay calm vanished like a puff of smoke. Everyone had turned against him. Heath could say what he would about Hector and his abrasive attitude, but the man knew how to get a point across. He was far too well-liked and respected by the others to have his authority questioned. Their loyalty to him and Eliwood was deeply rooted and absolute. Heath didn't stand a snowball's chance in hell of winning this argument. While he had admitted to being a deserter from Bern, something he swore to himself weeks ago that he would never do, he couldn't change their minds about him and Priscilla. Priscilla wasn't there to support him and after learning of his desertion, Kent wasn't going to help him either. The two real friends he had in this army had abandoned him and he was alone.

"It appears that whatever purpose you thought you could serve in this army is finished, Heath," Hector continued. "You're done. Fired. Whatever. Take your wyvern and go. You haven't a place here anymore. By morning, I don't want you and that beast to be within a hundred leagues of this place! If I ever see you again, I won't think twice about killing you." He waved his hand dismissively. "Get out of my sight. Your traitorous face is making me ill."

Like a whipped puppy with its tail between its legs, Heath shamefully hung his head and turned around and walked back to where he had thrown _Salvatore_. There was nothing more he could do. Whatever pride he had retained thus far was gone and he had been reduced to a life form lower than that of an insect. Hector was right. There was nothing left for him here. He might as well leave now and save himself the pain of saying goodbye later. He picked up his lance and reached for the whistle in his pocket to call Hyperion.

Then Eliwood stepped forward. "Heath, wait." Heath stopped and turned around. Eliwood looked over at Hector. "Hector, don't make any rash decisions. You can't simply dismiss Heath out of anger and spite. Nor can you truly expect him to just leave and never come back. Yes, Heath has lied to us and cost us our camp but regardless of that or what's happened here tonight, he's been true to fighting for us so far. Given that, we should at least talk this over before we do anything. After we've discussed this at length, then we can decide what course of action to take with Heath and Raven as well. Lyn? Hector? What do you think?" Lyn nodded but Hector was far less sure of himself. He cast a glance over at Eliwood and then looked at Heath and Raven. Everyone already knew where he stood on the matter but they knew it would be difficult for him to disagree with his friends.

"Fine," Hector grumbled. "I don't see the point in even allowing these two traitors to continue living any longer but if Eliwood wishes it, I can but agree." He lifted his axe and rested it on his shoulder. "If that's the case, then there's nothing more to be done here. Everyone, head back to back camp. Leave these two traitors to sort things out for themselves." He turned and shouldered his way back through the army, Eliwood and Lyn close behind him.

The others followed slowly, casting hard glances over at Heath and Raven before turning their backs on them. Heath would never forget the looks in their eyes. They were filled with such hate and disgust. Erk hurried off, presumably to go and check on Priscilla. They others filtered back through the trees and after a time, only four of them remained: Heath, Raven, Kent and Lucius. Lucius approached Raven and told him that they would find a way for him to stay with the army. He would convince Eliwood to allow it. Raven merely remarked that he wasn't sure he even wanted to stay anymore, that his original reason for joining up wasn't even worth it anymore. Looking over at Heath one more time, he followed the monk back to camp.

That left Heath and Kent. Heath looked over at him but Kent averted his eyes toward the scorched ground. Once again, Heath couldn't find the words to say, knowing that it would be futile to try. Heath had betrayed the others in the army but none more so than Kent. He didn't know why Kent had stayed behind, perhaps because he had something himself to say. The only thing to break the silence was their breathing in the cold night air.

"Kent." The cavalier's eyes met his. There wasn't hate or anger, only sadness. He drew closer to him. "Please."

The other shook his head and raised his arm in a warding gesture. "Don't…don't even come near me or even say anything, Heath," he said. "I thought I could trust you. Aside from Sain, you were the one I most depended on, the one whose loyalty I presumed to be unwavering and unquestionable. You have betrayed us and those you formerly served in more ways than one. Why did you have to do it? In his service to his lord, a knight's honor is more important than anything. Bern's wyvern knights are known for their loyalty and undying spirit. As one of them, I thought that you would understand that better than anyone. Instead, you're nothing but a deserter, a man without honor."

Kent stepped back. "I have nothing more to say to you. I hope that whatever path you chose in life you find something just to live for. Goodbye, Heath." He turned and was gone.

Heath despaired. That was it. He truly had nothing left now. He had lost Kent's respect and once she found out, Priscilla's as well. Respect that he could never gain back, no matter how long or how hard he tried. Eliwood had given him the chance to stay for one more night at least but Heath didn't know if it would be best to do so. The others would have nothing to do with him and some of the more temperamental ones may even try to kill him if he stayed.

Hyperion glided down out of the sky and landed next to him but Heath didn't even seem to notice. He sank to his knees and buried his face in his hands. There was nothing left in this world that could offer him even a small amount of comfort. If Priscilla died because of him, there was nothing to say that he wouldn't completely lose his sanity. He may very well take his own life if that happened.

_I wish I was dead. Brock should have killed me while he had the chance._

For the first time in his life, Heath wept.


	12. Chapter 11: Love and Forgiveness

Author's Note: Greetings, everyone. DarkEclipse45 here again. I'll make this brief, being as this is quite a long chapter. Sorry for such a long gap in updates! Two reasons: 1) Had computer issues and was without my documents for almost a week and 2) Aside from Chapter 9: "A Night of Regrets" I've been wanting to write this chapter more than any other from the time I started writing this. I needed to make it as perfect as I could. I hope it meets your expectations. It took me forever to think of an appropriate title, but I think I chose a good one. Enjoy!

**A Collision of Fates**

**Chapter Eleven: Love and Forgiveness**

_"Who are you? What are you doing here?"_

_"Heh heh heh…You're Priscilla, aren't you? Heath told me you would be here. Yes indeed, you are beautiful…a prize that any man would be lucky to get his hands on." He pulled out a dagger strapped to his right thigh and flashed a wicked smile. "Listen up lass, if you don't want to get hurt, don't struggle. Come with me. Quietly now."_

_Priscilla backed away. "I…No, I won't! I don't know what you're doing here but by your armor I can tell you're a Bern soldier. What do you want? Are you a friend of Sir Heath?"_

_"No, not exactly a friend," the man replied, advancing on her. "Some could call him my enemy but it doesn't matter either way. He killed my companion so I thought what better way to even the score than by stealing you away from him? Come here!"_

_The man lunged at her and Priscilla turned to run but the man grabbed her leg and she tripped and fell to the floor. She was able to get to her feet but already the other man was upon her. He wrapped his arms around her and groped for her neck with his free hand, holding the dagger against her stomach in the other. She fought back, kicking and lashing out the best she could but each time she hit his protective armor and her hands began to bleed. He struck her across the face and chest repeatedly, trying to weaken her resolve and not caring about the condition she was in when he took her. He was hurting her and was clearly having no qualms about it. Yet Priscilla continued to struggle, screaming and calling out for anybody who might hear her. If she could just slip away and find somebody who could help her, she may have a chance at escaping. Someone would hear her screaming…_

_Priscilla felt a sharp pain in her side and she crumpled to the floor of the tent, screaming louder than before. The man stepped away and turned and ran from her, gone from the tent in seconds. Tears came to her eyes and Priscilla looked down to find the dagger embedded in her left side, buried all the way to the hilt. Blood flowed from the wound, spilling out onto the floor like a waterfall. She probed at the handle and pain shot through body and she screamed again. How was it that no one had heard her? Someone should have come by now. Priscilla tried to stand but found that she couldn't. Rising to her knees, she gripped the hilt of the dagger in her right hand. Gritting her teeth, she slowly drew it out and screamed in agony before collapsing to the floor again. She began sobbing and started to think that there was no way she was going to live._

_Help me! Priscilla cried out silently, unable to make the words come to her mouth._

_But Priscilla knew that by even thinking so she would undoubtedly doom herself. Wiping the tears from her eyes and using every drop of strength she still possessed, Priscilla sat back up and reached for her mend staff that leaned against the wall of the tent. Her arms felt like lead and she couldn't seem to move fast enough without causing even more pain. Finally her fingers wrapped around the staff and she pulled it towards her, holding it tightly against her breast. Her vision was beginning to blur with the loss of blood and she needed to do this quickly. Pointing the staff at her left side, she closed her eyes and focused, channeling her strength into the staff. The sapphire orb at the top glowed a bright blue color for a few moments, then dimmed and faded away entirely. It was no use. She wasn't strong enough. She couldn't do this alone, she realized. She needed to get help. Forcing herself to her knees once again and still holding both the staff and the dagger, she began to crawl toward the tent flaps. It was not even ten feet but it might as well have been ten miles. She lost more blood and energy with every step she took but finally she reached the end and crawled outside._

_It was there that she collapsed for the final time. Too weak from her ordeal and the loss of blood, Priscilla fell to the ground and curled up into a ball. She couldn't see much of the area around her, but she could vaguely see the brightness of fire and feel its heat. The sounds of battle came from somewhere in the distance. That would explain why no one had heard her. This was where she was going to die, she knew. She couldn't even move. No one would come for her. No! she told herself. Someone would come. Someone would find her. She would not lose hope._

_With nothing more to do, she closed her eyes, not to rest, for she feared if she did that she may never wake up._

_Someone would come…someone would come…_

X

That day after the battle, it rained.

Yet the rain did not bring life and nourishment to the land, only destruction. As of late the cooler air of winter had been rapidly taking control of the atmosphere but nature had decided that it would unleash one last thunderstorm before winter arrived and took hold. Storm clouds billowed in from the west, dark and foreboding and threatening to consume everything in their path. Eclipsing the sun moments after it had risen over the horizon, the storm moved swiftly and violently. It broke past the mountains with ease and decided that was where it would begin its violent journey east. Gathering all of its might on the eastern slopes, the storm relentlessly deluged the lands below in sheets of rain, as if venting some unknown source of anger and frustration. Water ran down the mountain slopes and hillsides in angry torrents, sweeping away anything in its path that was not rooted to the ground. Rivers flooded, the water rising to double the normal level in a matter of minutes. Lightning flashed wickedly and thunder boomed with the sound of an enormous drum, reverberating across the ground. The wind increased as the storm continued its destructive journey east, blowing so hard that the trunks of smaller and weaker trees bent against its fury, threatening to uproot them completely. Anywhere the water did not flow the wind tore across the landscape and blew with such ferocity that it threatened to strip the land bare of any soil or vegetation and leave only barren rock in its wake. Never before had the people seen a storm of this magnitude. It appeared that the gods had gone to war, their wrath undaunted, wreaking havoc upon the life forms below.

All the while Heath sat at the edge of a cliff overlooking the mountains and valleys below him, his back against a small pine tree. In his hands was _Salvatore _and he was still dressed in full armor. He felt small and insignificant in the face of nature's wrath, a small and worthless insect that would fail to play a role in the history of the earth. There was nothing between him and the storm, fully in the brunt of its attack. He took it all without flinching in the slightest. The stinging rain relentlessly pelted his unprotected face and skin and the wind numbed his entire body. The rain was cold and piercing, its touch neither soothing or relieving. But that was the way rain in the mountains was, Heath knew. It was cold and not a cleansing shower, often destructive in forms such as this. He was soaked through to the bone by now, his clothes and armor offering little protection against the storm. Hyperion lay curled up in the woods behind him, unaffected by the rain or the wind, his hard scales all of the protection he needed. His eyes were focused intently on Heath and was likely wondering why his master insisted on staying out in the rain instead of going into the forest where he would likely stay dry.

But Heath cared about neither the rain nor the wind. He was too lost in thoughts of his own to barely even notice the storm raging around him. He had fallen asleep for a brief period of time and his nightmares had returned. Only this time, they were not of him and his former companions. It troubled him more than anything else, the one puzzle he had yet to figure out. It was so much like the ones he had experienced before, yet somehow different. It was strange in the sense that he was not simply an observer of the event, but rather a participant in the attack. As Brock? As Priscilla? He didn't know. The nightmare was as vivid as the others but the difference with this one was that he hadn't actually seen this one happen. He knew as much as he did only from what Brock and Priscilla had told him about the attack. The images came back to him in a rush, when he had found Priscilla lying on the ground outside of her tent. Her soft and beautiful face marred by bruises and hands bloodied, the results of simply trying to defend herself from an attack that was entirely Heath's doing, even though indirectly. Her body and clothes soaked with her own blood, the brightness of her eyes fading rapidly as her life force drained away…

Tears came to his eyes immediately and he did nothing to prevent it. In fact, there was nothing he could have done to stop them. His strength and resolve whittled down to virtually nothing, he let them come. No matter how tightly he closed his eyes or how hard he tried to suppress his anger and guilt, there was nothing he could do. He couldn't keep himself from crying whenever he thought of her. He was too exhausted to try otherwise but he did his best to dry his eyes.

The clearing in which Heath was sitting held a special place in the wyvern rider's heart. He hadn't been back here in at least five years, mostly because his training as a wyvern knight had kept him busy. No, it had been almost ten years, he corrected himself. For as long as Heath could remember, his father had brought him here several times a week, even long before becoming a wyvern knight was a thought in his mind. It would always just be the two of them and Heath's father had never told him why they went so often. Heath had been too young at the time to understand why, but now he realized it was because they had only had each other and no one else. They wouldn't do much, only sit together in the clearing and talk. Just talk. About anything. Anything that came to mind. Heath had possessed a stronger relationship with his father than some of his other friends. He remembered the warm summer evenings when they would lay in the grass and watch the clouds drift lazily by.

While the memories of better times should have comforted him, it only made things worse. Heath couldn't help but feel that any memories of this place from here on out would be darker ones. Memories full of death and despair, ones he would sooner just forget. He had been on the cliff since the night before, thinking. Sleep had not come to him, save for when he had the nightmare. After that, he didn't dare to try and fall asleep again in fear that the dream would return to haunt him once more. He hadn't even bothered to change clothes or even tell anybody where he was going. Not that anybody would have cared anyways. Everyone in the army hated him. Kent, Fiora, Priscilla as well once she found out what happened. Everybody he had once called friend. They despised him. Any place he once had in this army was gone. Heath had seen the looks in their eyes, full of hate and distrust. He would never forget it. Nothing would likely happen to change their opinions of him and it would be best if he simply stayed away from them. Eliwood had yet to reach a decision on what Heath's fate in the army would be, though Heath couldn't see it being anything desirable, regardless of what was decided. Heath couldn't figure out why he was even still there, why he shouldn't just leave as Hector had commanded him to.

But that wasn't true. There was only one reason why he was still there.

It didn't matter, in any case. He wouldn't be allowed to see her, no matter how much he begged and pleaded. All he wanted to do was say goodbye and explain to her that he could no longer stay, but nothing more. Heath felt that he at least owed her that much. But even if Priscilla awoke and told them that it wasn't Heath who attacked her, Erk and Lord Pent would still forbid it. Heath may not have physically hurt her, but he was still the reason why she had been attacked. Compounding this with Heath being a deserter from Bern, there was no logical reason for him to see her. Heath thought himself weak and pathetic for not even working up the courage to even try, for at least then he wouldn't have to leave without having attempted to speak with Priscilla. But deep down he knew that it would do more harm than good and the result would be the same either way. It made little difference now.

But what was _wrong _with him? He was always in control of his actions and emotions, letting neither get the better of him no matter the situation. How could have he allowed things to escalate to this point? He had tried so hard to remain aloof and secretive and now people were getting hurt because of his selfishness. Before, he had been quite content with simply being another soldier in Eliwood's army, disappearing among its ranks the best he could. Weeks ago he had made a vow to himself that he would not become socially involved with anybody in whatever company he was currently serving. Divulge nothing and talk to no one except when necessary. Remaining alone was something he was more comfortable with. He had been so confident then, so sure of himself that he was doing the right thing. People and emotions got in the way of reason after all. Along the way, something had happened to change that. What had caused him to break his promise?

Heath knew far too well what it was, of course. It was her. Priscilla. It had always been her. But it was hardly her fault alone. Heath had let it happen, growing closer to her with the passing of each day. She was the best friend he had ever had, the one he could talk to whenever he chose. It wasn't ever like that with anyone else. The others were too arrogant and judgmental, seeing other people as less than themselves. Priscilla wasn't like that. She was kind and thoughtful, never quick to anger and careful with the feelings of others. Heath didn't know her as well as he would have liked, but enough to recognize the devious grip she held over his heart. She was the one who always drew him back and away from the cruelty of the world, away from the war currently being waged between higher powers that Heath didn't care to comprehend. He was captivated by her beauty every time he saw her, each time drawing in closer to her. He to tried to think if Priscilla felt the same way about him and failed. There was no way of truly knowing unless he asked her directly.

Heath had never been in love. He didn't know what it felt like. His feelings confused him. Having kept mostly to himself as a child, he never interacted with boys of his own age very much, let alone girls. He had spent most of his time working on his father's farm on the outskirts of Bern's capital, content with his life as a simple countryman. He had liked farming and he had been very good at it. He had no need for friends. The only friends he had needed were the earth he tilled and the crops he planted. But as the years had progressed and after he had enrolled in the ranks of Bern's Wyvern Knights, he became more emotionally mature. He had been in a few relationships with other girls but they were fleeting and couldn't even remotely be called love. It was just a taste of the romantic feelings he could experience, but nothing more. But he couldn't mistake his feelings toward Priscilla. Maybe he _did _love her and maybe he didn't. Yet it was there, tormenting his very soul and threatening to devour him if he didn't do anything about it. But made little difference either way. Theirs was a forbidden love. Though he hadn't known before, she was a noble of Etruria, her status too much for him, a deserter. Their differences were too great to transcend even a simple friendship, let alone love. For that reason at least, he must never see her again.

_I can never see her again, _Heath thought in despair, repeating the words in his head. The tears returned at once. _After knowing of what I am, she won't want anything to do with me. While I can't turn on my feelings for her, I must at least turn my back on her. Just as well. She's better off without me, anyways. Bern isn't done hunting me and as long as she's near me she runs the risk of getting hurt again. I can tell her goodbye but nothing more._

"I thought I might find you here."

Startled, Heath jumped to his feet and turned at the sound of the voice behind him. Eliwood was standing at the edge of the clearing, sword still fastened to his belt and his tattered brown cloak wrapped tightly around him, body bent against the wind. It appeared he had come alone and there was no sight of Lyn or Hector. He was soaking wet just as Heath was and the wyvern rider wondered how long it had taken the Pheraen noble to trek through the muddied forest and make his way up here. Eliwood's bright red hair was plastered to his forehead but he seemed oblivious to the rain. He said nothing more and stared at Heath and Heath stared back, waiting for something to happen. Hyperion had already moved between the two of them, clearly disgruntled that someone had so abruptly intruded on his master's solitude. Back arched menacingly, he growled in warning.

Heath, too, was unhappy. "What do you want?" he asked. He didn't bother to hide the contemptuousness in his voice and allowed Hyperion to stay where he was.

"I'd just like to talk to you," Eliwood replied, his voice firm. He backed away slightly from Hyperion. "Nothing more. There are things we need to discuss."

Heath thought for a moment. Eliwood had something specific in mind, Heath knew. Eliwood wouldn't have hiked all the way up here unless he had a very good reason for it. Maybe he had come simply to dismiss him from the army. Or perhaps he had news on Priscilla's condition. At that thought, Heath knew that must be part of it, at least. Eliwood likely knew that Heath would need to know how the girl was doing. No one else would come all this way to find him.

"Fine," Heath answered finally. He waited. "What is it you have to tell me?"

"Can we go somewhere out of the rain first?"

Heath nodded. Motioning for Hyperion to move away, Heath followed Eliwood back into the trees and out of rain. He took _Salvatore _with him, just as a measure of comfort. Hyperion followed in behind him, intent on not leaving the two of them alone. While it was much drier back here and the rain itself could not fully penetrate the canopy above, the winds still blew through the trees and sprayed rain into their faces. Pulling his cloak tighter about him, Heath followed Eliwood deeper into the forest before the other stopped and turned to face him. Neither of them said anything, as if waiting for the other to speak first. Hyperion settled in behind Heath and sat back on his haunches, eyes searching over the two men curiously.

Finally Heath could stand it no longer. "Well? How is she?" he blurted out, unable to contain himself. "How's Priscilla? Is she going to be okay?"

"She's going to be fine," the other replied, looking away. Heath sighed with relief. "Pent treated her wounds quickly and gave her a medicine to help her sleep. She's resting now, but Erk and Pent won't leave her side until she completely recovers. Priscilla had already lost a substantial amount of blood when you found her, Heath, but she's much stronger than she looks. She's lucky to be alive, as are all of us."

"Eliwood…" Heath began. He needed to clear the air between them and extinguish any doubts. "You know that it wasn't me who attacked her, don't you? The battle may have been my fault and I'm the reason she got hurt but I never raised my hand to her. I could never do such a such a thing. You may not believe me but I just thought you should know."

Eliwood nodded. "Yes, Heath, I know. Priscilla herself told me so."

"She did?"

"Yes. She awoke once last night and asked that I be brought to speak with her. She was still weak and couldn't say much, but she told me enough. She was very forceful in her argument and I had no choice but to believe what she said. She was being absolutely honest. She was telling me the truth. I, in turn, told the others about what had really happened last night. Some of them were skeptical at first but eventually everyone came into agreement about it. No one thinks of you as a murderer any longer, Heath. You are absolved of that guilt."

Heath let out an even heavier sigh than before but shook his head. "I will admit that's good to hear. But none of this changes the fact that everything happened solely because of my refusal to tell you of my desertion from Bern. Had I not allowed my stubbornness and fear to cloud my better judgment, I might have given way to reason and told you about it."

Eliwood folded his arms across his chest. "Would you tell me about it now? I would hear your story, if you would let me. I feel that you didn't get a chance to explain yourself last night."

"You have your friend Hector to thank for that."

"How come?"

Heath diverted his gaze toward the ground and kicked idly at a rock with his left boot. "Because I had nothing left to say on the matter. Or least not anything that would have made any difference. Hector had already made up his mind about me and therefore the minds of everybody else. It's the same way now, Lord Eliwood. They see me for what I am now. Something less and disgusting. What you and everybody else saw before was a lie." He looked back at Eliwood. "Now you see me for what I truly am and you no doubt think less of me than before. Once a person sees the truth of things, there's no going back."

"But why didn't you tell us about your past when you first joined, Heath?" Eliwood asked. There was a hint of desperation in his voice. "Had you told me at least when you joined we might have been able to help you. I'm not saying that some of the others wouldn't have felt the same about you as they do now but at least then you wouldn't have been lying to us."

"I don't know," Heath replied solemnly, looking away again. "Mainly out of fear, I suppose. Everyone in your army seemed so honorable. I felt that I had finally found a place in the world again and I feared I would lose that place if I told anybody about myself. Everyone else holds some kind of devotion to their country, be it as a mercenary or a knight. I was afraid of what might happen if I told you. A fair portion of Bern's wyvern knights was, and still is, out hunting me. I feared that if I told any of you word would eventually get out and therefore bring a calamity like last night's down on your army."

"Yet that happened anyway," Eliwood added.

"I realized my hands would have been tied no matter what decision I made. The result would be the same. Bern would find me or you would cast me out. Either way, I would be alone again. But it was my own indecision that brought all of this about. I am disgusted with myself for that. Even doing something would have been better than doing nothing. I should have either left or told you about my past. Instead, I chose to do neither and kept pushing the matter aside until it was too late."

Heath turned fully away from Eliwood and stared out into the darkness of the forest. "Are you satisfied now, Lord Eliwood? I have told you that of which you asked and I have nothing more to say to you about it. Just leave me alone. Dismiss me from the army or allow me to stay or what you will. There will be nothing for me regardless of the decision you make. I simply don't care anymore. But do me a favor and do not speak of this to me again." Heath knew it was not his place to make demands of someone of Lord Eliwood's status but he felt he should say whatever came to his mind. Had Marcus or Hector been present, they would have harshly reprimanded him for being so blatantly rude and loose with his tongue.

He heard Eliwood approach and the man placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Heath flinched slightly at his touch. "Heath, I'd like you to stay with the army. I already spoke with Lyn and Hector about and we eventually reached an agreement. Lyn was more moderate but it wasn't easy persuading Hector. As you well know, he'd rather have you killed or at the very least sent away. In the end, we all agreed to let you stay."

Heath let his shoulders sag. "Why?" he demanded without turning. "Why would you do that for a vagabond such as me? I don't deserve your kindness, Eliwood, let alone anyone else's!"

The other man's response was soft. "I don't know, to be completely honest. Mainly because you've showed nothing but loyalty in your actions and words thus far, I suppose. But I'd hazard a guess that there's more to it than that. Heath, you may just think yourself another soldier on the battlefield but you've made an impression on many of the others. Don't think that all of them think so lowly of you and your past. That may have been the initial impression you received last night but many of them suspect that you must have had a sound reason for leaving Bern. They said so themselves. Several of them even voiced their own opinions on the matter and argued to let you stay. I won't tell you who because you can figure that out for yourself."

Eliwood removed his hand and stepped away. "Again, I'd like you to stick around, Heath. You're obedient and loyal, everything a soldier should be. Whether you feel so or not, you're a valuable member among our ranks and irreplaceable on the battlefield. I won't force you to stay but if you want to leave, I won't stop you. I won't think any less of you if you do decide to leave. It's really up to you." With that, Heath heard Eliwood turn and head back into forest from where he came, the sound of his footfalls quickly becoming lost in the howl of the wind.

Heath remained there amongst the trees for a long time after that. He suddenly felt very tired and dropped to one knee, leaning on his lance for support. Hyperion came and curled up next him. Heath hung his head and watched the individual drops of water drip from the green and white strands of his hair. He looked at himself in the small reflection of a small pool of water that had gathered on the ground. He realized just how tattered and worn he had become, the courage and valor he had possessed as a knight all but disappeared. A ghost of his former self, he thought. There was a haggardness to him that he did not recognize. He looked somehow older, as if the stress he had been under over the past several weeks had made the crease lines on his face more prominent. His armor seemed to have lost its sheen, its normally bright and polished surface reduced to a dull tarnish. _Salvatore _no longer felt comfortable in his hands, its purpose lost once again. What could he fight for that would make it more than just an ordinary weapon as it had once been?

His mind swam with thoughts about what Lord Eliwood had told him. By giving Heath the choice to stay, Eliwood had shown that he held some measure of respect for him. Heath wanted to stay and in a way he didn't. He couldn't figure out the reason for it but he knew he would cause pain no matter what he chose to do. There might be more on his end if he chose the latter and more to some of the others if he chose the former. Leaving and getting away from those that caused him the pain would be the logical choice, he knew.

Still, he mused, he couldn't live with himself knowing he had abandoned Priscilla without so much as an explanation.

_Yes_, Heath decided, rising to his feet. _I will stay_.

X

The army was up and on the move in the next few hours, their hearts heavy and their spirits low but determined nonetheless. They couldn't allow themselves to be ruled by anger and despair if they hoped to stay alive. The storm had passed and while the weather was fair, the ground had turned to a soggy and muddy mess in the wake of the passing storm. Progress was slow. After replenishing what supplies they could at a nearby town, they set off to the south in search of the stolen Fire Emblem and the soldiers who had taken Bern's priceless national treasure. Heath was not at the army's head any longer. Although Eliwood had helped to soften the edges of Hector's anger toward Heath, the Ostian Lord no longer trusted the wyvern rider. Some things simply couldn't be changed. He had relieved Heath of his scouting duties and sent him to fly at the rear of the army, far away from anybody else. There Heath stayed, not daring to argue the point. He it liked it better anyways. It was easier to think we he was alone.

They marched on for three days after that and gradually the ground began to dry out and ceased to be filled with muddy sinkholes that would ensnare a person before they even realized they were upon one. They hiked high up into Bern's impassable mountains, giant stone behemoths that threatened to block their way at every turn. Cliffs rose steeply all around them and the footing was treacherous, rocks tumbling free with every step they took. Oftentimes the path narrowed so much that they were forced to press their backs flat against the rock and sidle across. The weather, while cold and frosty, remained fair and the sky free of any rain clouds for the first two days. This allowed Lyn to put her tracking skills to use in following the slow and clumsy trails of Bern's soldiers. Trails faded and soon disappeared entirely but Lyn's experience as a Tracker proved effective. A few sounds of wildlife returned after the storm had passed, though most of the insects had already been killed off by the cold and most animals burrowed into dens for the remainder of the winter. Only the more resilient animals, such as wolves and mountain lions, remained to stand against the cold. Their shadowy forms could be seen stalking the surrounding forests and mountains, solitary predators on the hunt.

It was on the third day when the army spotted the Black Fang fortress in the near distance that it began to snow. The ancient, worn castle rose out from the mountain peaks like a ghost, materializing out of the low-hanging clouds that surrounded it. The snowstorm moved in gradually and in plain sight, which gave the members of the army ample time to dig out their heavier cloaks and whatever other winter gear they possessed. It began snowing softly at first, snowflakes falling silently to the ground. By the time the army reached the Black Fang fortress almost a foot of snow had accumulated and it began to fall harder. It layered the ground in a white blanket and draped over the trees and bushes. The wind blew more fiercely at times and things changed from a simple snowstorm to blizzard conditions.

On this day Heath saw Priscilla for the first time since the battle against Bern's wyvern riders. It was not by accident that it had been this way. Heath had seen to it that he would not speak to her until he was sure of what he would say. The battle to regain the Fire Emblem was well under way and by then several hours old. Eliwood's army was once again proving themselves to be superior in every aspect and despite being hindered by the snow, broke through enemy lines and stormed the castle. Heath, deciding that he would not be needed once the others were inside the fortress, set Hyperion down outside of its walls and removed his armor. Hyperion immediately sunk down into the snow, reveling in its grandeur and pushing it around with his muzzle as if it were some kind of plaything. Heath allowed himself a small smile. Like Hyperion, Heath loved the snow. When it came it gave him a complete sense of peace and tranquility.

He was still thinking about this and letting the snow fall onto his face when Priscilla appeared seemingly out of nowhere through the white curtain of snow. Her horse struggled to maintain balance in the snow and Priscilla looked at bit unsteady and that she may fall off at any moment. Once she got close enough to Heath, she jumped off and approached him on foot. Instantly Heath's mood darkened and he immediately turned away, pretending not to see her and be preoccupied with something else. His ruse didn't work, however, and she continued to trudge through the snow towards him, using her staff for balance.

Her sudden appearance surprised him. What was she doing here? Was she out of her mind? Surely she hadn't fully recovered yet! Heath couldn't fathom as to how she had slipped away from Erk to come out here. As Priscilla's escort, Heath knew that the mage would never allow it. Yet here she was, clearly not concerned about what would happen it she was caught.

Heath panicked. He knew that she had come for him. Nothing else made sense. Priscilla had slipped away solely to come and talk to him. But Heath wasn't ready to face her yet. Especially not now. He needed more time.

"Sir Heath!" she called out to him. He acted as if he hadn't heard her at all. She shouted to him again. "Sir Heath! What are you doing? How come you aren't out fighting?" She was beside him in moments and stood there in silence, waiting for him to respond. Heath said nothing. Tears came to his eyes immediately and he leaned against Hyperion and buried his face in the crook of his arm, trying unsuccessfully to hold back the tears that wouldn't seem to stop coming. He hated that she had to see him like this, all weak and vulnerable, the exact opposite of the man she had gotten to know over the past several weeks. He was ashamed that she had caught him when he was utterly defenseless, unable to keep his emotions in check any longer.

Priscilla spoke again. "Sir Heath, what's wrong? Are you feeling all right?"

This time he responded. "Go away," he told her, not moving an inch. "Don't look at me! I am pathetic. Just leave me alone! I don't deserve to even speak to you, let alone be near you at all. Do both of us a favor and never speak to me again."

Priscilla touched him lightly on the arm. "Surely you don't mean that, Sir Heath!"

Heath jumped away as if he had been bitten by a snake and slowly turned to face her after drying his eyes the best he could. Her face still remained an exquisite picture of beauty, the bruises she had suffered days before all but disappeared. While a few scratches were still in evidence, she was still as beautiful as Heath had always found her. The curves of her body were as perfect and elegant as always but her dazzling and infectious smile was absent, instead replaced by a look of concern and sadness. Her red hair was speckled with the white dots of snowflakes. Heath realized how foolish and pathetic he must look before her, his eyes red and puffy from crying so much.

Priscilla noticed it instantly. "Sir Heath? Why are you crying? Has something happened?" She spoke as if nothing had truly happened at all, that the attack on her had just been a horrible dream, a figment of her imagination.

Heath tried in vain to ignore her question and change the subject. "Priscilla, what you think you're doing out here? You're still weak! You shouldn't even be anywhere near this battle! I watched the way you swayed on your horse as you approached. You looked about ready to fall off."

"I'm fine, Sir Heath," she replied quickly. "I'm…just a bit cold is all. Now tell me what's wrong. I've never seen you this upset!"

"I…I thought it would have been obvious," Heath said, hanging his head and still unable to look her in the eyes. He took a deep breath to steady himself. "Priscilla, everything that happened you is my fault! Mine alone! I told you that the night Bern attacked us! I'm the reason you got hurt. You asked me who the man that attacked you was. He was an old comrade of mine before I left Bern. He hunted me and found me that night and tried to kill me. I had a chance to kill him before he killed me but I failed to do so in time. Because of that, he found you and almost killed you, Priscilla! I am disgusted with myself for that! I hate myself for it. By not telling you who I was, I inevitably led you to get hurt. How could I even expect you to speak to me again after that? I can't expect you to forgive me, Priscilla." He turned and began to unsaddle Hyperion. "We cannot be together any longer. Please, leave me alone and ignore me should our paths cross again in the future."

"I can't do that, Sir Heath!" Priscilla exclaimed. "How…How could I? Not after we have become friends! Why do you say such things to me, Sir Heath? Do you truly not care about me anymore? Does our friendship mean so little to you that you can so easily just cast it away?"

"Priscilla, I-"

"No, Sir Heath! Just listen to what I have to say!" Shocked by the sudden aggressiveness in her tone, Heath turned immediately to face her. Priscilla had never been quick to anger.

Her voice softened again just as quickly. "You promised, Sir Heath!" She looked directly up at him, her child's face full of sadness. "You promised that you would protect me and always be by my side! Are you someone who so easily breaks a promise? Regardless of what you may think, you can't keep blaming yourself for me getting hurt. What happened that night is of no consequence! Nothing should have changed between us! We are still friends, are we not? There must be another reason! There must be!"

"Yes…I…" Heath swallowed hard. "I…I heard that you were the daughter of an Etrurian count. Granted, I had no idea, but still, I believe that my behavior toward you in the past has been improper. You may not know this, but I'm a fugitive from Bern. Normally, we wouldn't even be allowed to speak to one another. For that reason, at the very least, I cannot speak to you anymore."

"I don't care," Priscilla responded, reaching out impulsively to grab his hand. Her fingers slipped into his. "None of that matters to me, Heath. I want you to be at my side, always. I care too much about you to let you go! You can't pretend to believe that you don't feel the same way about me! Claiming that you did not know my rank is no excuse! Please, Heath."

Her naivety and stubbornness infuriated him. "Priscilla, you don't seem to get it!" he exclaimed, yanking his had away from her. He didn't mean to shout but he couldn't help himself. "Didn't you listen to anything that I told you? I am a deserter! I don't belong anywhere. That's the reason Bern's wyvern riders came hunting for me in the first place! I am living proof that Bern's wyvern riders are not what they once were. Therefore, they needed to find me and silence me before I could tarnish their images, no matter how false their own honor may have been."

She reached out to him again. "Heath, please. It wasn't-"

"No, Priscilla! The attack was entirely my doing! Everything was my fault! You got hurt because I was too much of a coward to face my own fears and tell somebody about it. I have no honor left to my name, Priscilla. You are of noble birth and I am nobody. We come from two entirely different worlds, Priscilla. Nothing will ever happen to change that. Our feelings toward each other cannot alter what already is." He couldn't believe that he was actually yelling at her, the girl who meant so much more to him than he let on. Why was it that he couldn't tell her his true feelings about her? How come he was angry with her when he should only be angry with himself?

Priscilla lowered her head. "I-I see…" Heath could see tears forming in her eyes. "So you don't care about me anymore. Everything you ever told me was a lie."

"What?" Her bluntness stunned him. Heath felt an instant's regret for yelling at her so. "N-No! That's not what I meant! I just…"

Priscilla stepped closer to him and peered into his eyes. Already the tears were rolling down her cheeks. "Just what?" she asked, choking on her tears. "What are you trying to tell me, Heath? Do you care about me or not?"

"Of course I care about you, Priscilla!" He reached out and brushed the tears from her cheeks and she looked away. "Please, don't cry. I-I'm sorry. I-I didn't mean it that way. I just thought, that if you knew who I was, you wouldn't want me around…I couldn't ask you to stay with me while I was being hunted by Bern. Once they found me they would find out about you as well and bring harm upon you. I didn't want to expose you to that kind of danger. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if that happened to you again."

This time he took his hand in hers and bent close, speaking barely above a whisper. "I truly am sorry, Priscilla. I failed to take your feelings into account and just assumed that you didn't want to be around me anymore. It was incredibly selfish of me to do and I sincerely apologize." He reached out and held her face in his hands. "If it is so much that you are moved to tears, I will stay by your side and never leave."

Her eyes met his. "Sir Heath…I…" She blushed and Heath found her to more beautiful than he had ever seen her before. "I am cold. Hold me." She threw herself against him, dropping her staff and wrapping her arms around his waist. She buried her face in his chest. The tears flowed freely down her cheeks. "Always stay with me, Heath. Don't ever leave me alone again! I am frightened of what would happen if you did. Please, Heath. You must promise me that you won't."

Heath nodded as she spoke, helpless in the face of her persistence, his feelings for her so strong that he would have done anything she asked despite the gravest of reservations. It no longer mattered to him who each of them were or where they had come from. He would never leave her, not ever. Heath buried his face in her shoulder, hugging her close. He combed her red hair with his fingers; he stroked the curve of her back. He felt her slim arms tighten around him, and her body tremble.

"I promise," he answered softly.

The snow continued to fall around them, not as hard as before, its graceful presence barely noticed by the two of them. It enveloped them and shut them away from the world about, away from the battle raging around them and the deaths therein. The rest of the world and its people ceased to exist at all. The same feelings Heath had experienced when he had taken Priscilla flying days before came back to him in a rush, spawned by the feeling of Priscilla's body against his own. They filled him up and his stress over everything that had happened was gone in an instant. Heath had no idea how long they stayed there but he didn't care. It was just the two of them: him and Priscilla, lost in their embrace. That was all that mattered. He felt the warmth of her body spread into him and ward against the cold. Neither of them said anything and Heath pulled her closer to him, becoming lost in the feel of her body against his. Priscilla continued to cry silently into his chest, her tears leaving a dark stain on his tunic.

After a time, Heath pulled away slightly and Priscilla lifted her face until it was even with his own. Tears still sparkled in her eyes and she looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to say something. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, Heath thought, stroking the soft skin of her face. So pure and innocent, without a care in the world of what was destined to be for the both of them. She was absolutely right. Why should any of it matter to them right now? It should simply be enough that they were in love and not allow anything else to get in the way. How could he ever have thought about leaving her? Having already promised her that he wouldn't, he knew in his heart that he couldn't possibly leave her.

Heath held her gaze and remained silent. Instead, acting solely on impulse, he bent forward and kissed her softly on the lips, his hands dropping to her waist. Priscilla did not resist and she kissed him back, putting her arms around his neck and pulling him close once again. The experience was exhilarating. He breathed her in as if she were a flower. Heath forgot about everything in those minutes he spent kissing her, letting the moment fill him up. His doubts, misgivings, fears. All of them, gone. He threw everything away for her. Priscilla was all that mattered anymore.

The world around them melted away.

Heath kissed her harder and he felt Priscilla do the same to him.

At that moment, Heath knew he loved her.


	13. Chapter 12: Conflicting Thoughts

**A Collision of Fates**

**Chapter Twelve: Conflicting Thoughts**

Priscilla had felt as though she could have spent an eternity in his embrace.

Even now, as she marched forward with the rest of the army just a few hours after the battle at the Black Fang fortress had ended, she could still feel his arms around her, the warm touch of his skin and his lips pressed against hers. The moment was forever burned into her memory. His strong, muscular frame pressed against her own body, taking her in and allowing her to cry into his chest. She would never forget how that had felt, not for as long as she lived. While somewhere far above and in front of the rest of the group, Priscilla could still feel Heath's eyes upon her. He was watching her in ways she couldn't see, Priscilla knew. She could feel him all around her, thickening the air she breathed. All of her thoughts were bent on him. She couldn't stop thinking about him. It surprised her that she suddenly felt this way about him. Before, they had simply been friends but now they had become something else entirely. Everywhere she looked his was there, looking back at her and flashing that all too wondrous smile at her. Heath had made a lasting impression upon her in those few moments they had stood together in the snow, free to forget their own cares and fears about who they were and where they were at. In that moment, time had stopped for them and all that had mattered was their love. Everything else had been forgotten.

The entire experience had been incredible.

She still couldn't believe that she had kissed him. Or rather, that Heath had kissed her. It had been a highly inappropriate situation for such a thing, standing in the middle of a battlefield and all. She would have liked to say that she had seen it coming, while, in truth, it had caught her completely off guard. She had not resisted the kiss at all, welcoming its inviting touch. Instead of holding back she had kissed Heath back and all of the questions she had before were answered. What were his true feelings toward her? Priscilla had asked herself that time and again. How strong were those feelings? She had wondered. The uncertainty of it had torn at her but now she knew. Heath was in love with her and her him. It was a strange and somewhat foolish thought, Priscilla knew, but she had never been so sure of anything in her entire life. All doubt had been cast aside and there was no confusing their feeling now. While she couldn't say for sure that she truly _loved _him, at least she knew that he would always be there beside her.

Priscilla smiled as she continued to walk alongside her horse, her body stiff and sore from riding so much, reins held loosely in her left hand. Erk walked closely at her left, periodically glancing over at her.

Only time would tell, she told herself. It may be a long time coming, but she would know eventually.

After a time, Priscilla realized that she, in fact, didn't really know Heath at all. Despite having known him for almost a month now the two of them had never really talked to one another about themselves. Up until now, they had been quite content with speaking of what was currently happening: the war against Nergal and the Black Fang and their own particular roles on the battlefield. Neither had really said much about themselves, perhaps because they were uncomfortable doing so. She knew now why Heath had been reluctant in speaking about himself, wishing to conceal the fact he was a deserter from Bern. Priscilla had talked about her life hardly at all and this worried her greatly.

Things could end between them just as quickly as they had begun if nothing was done to change it. What if their relationship had begun to blossom purely out of a sudden infatuation for each other and nothing more? If that was so, Heath might, regardless of his feelings for her, eventually begin to question if the was anything to be gained by seeing her further. Though she doubted Heath would so abruptly sacrifice his feelings for her, Priscilla didn't want to take that chance. Fear and paranoia swept through her, threatening to overwhelm her. She couldn't allow things to reach that point.

Was it foolish to even think like this? Priscilla wondered. She didn't know. She had never been in love before. Not even remotely. The only person she had ever come close to being in some kind of relationship with was Lord Darin of Laus. The thought was revolting. Yet even if the Marquess' plan had succeeded, it could hardly be called love. He had viewed her as a highly coveted item to have in his possession and nothing more.

Heath, however…he was different. He didn't see her something he could use for his own personal and selfish desires. Priscilla had seen that much already. He was reassuring and compassionate, mostly in a protective sense. The fact that he saw her as someone he needed to do his utmost to protect never really bothered her. Priscilla was used to men behaving like that around her. Sain exhibited such characteristics around her constantly and Erk was her escort. But Heath also saw her as a friend, a person he could trust and confide in whenever the need arose. To him, she was much more than a beautiful girl. Heath had told her once that her calm and gentle demeanor was enough to put anyone's mind at ease. Heath always seemed much more relaxed around her. This reinforced Priscilla's own thoughts on the matter, now knowing for sure that Heath would not stray from her side.

Thus, she had vowed that she would never stray from his side as well, during or after battle. It should have been so simple. The feelings they held for each other should have been enough to overcome any obstacle that may stand in their way. Providing that they never did anything that would have aroused unwanted suspicion, instances such as Heath taking her flying on Hyperion, it shouldn't seem abnormal for them to continue spending time together.

But there were always obstacles. She should have known better than to think there wouldn't be complications. As always, her overly-protective escort Erk had already voiced his thoughts on the matter. After the incident several nights ago he would no longer allow her to see Heath. He had confronted her only moments after the battle in the snow had concluded. With such worry and contempt in his voice, Erk's words had left her both reassured and upset by the time he was finished…

_"I'm sorry, Lady Priscilla, but I cannot allow this!"_

_Priscilla put her hands on her hips in frustration. She had repeated herself over a dozen times already! It didn't matter what she said or how many times she said it: Erk wasn't going to budge on this. Why was he being so obstinate about this? It wasn't as if he understood absolutely everything that was going on with her, despite how well he thought he knew her._

_"Why must you be so insistent about his, Erk? You know as well as I that what happened that night wasn't Heath's fault. It was simply an unfortunate result of the battle that took place—"_

_Erk silenced her with a wave of his hand as the two continued walking back to join the rest of the army. "A battle that was nonetheless a result of his mere presence in this army! Because of that wretch, not only were you put in danger, Lady Priscilla, you were almost killed!"_

_Priscilla's expression was stormy. Never before had he behaved this way. Instead of retaining his normally taciturn nature, he was showing much more emotion than he ever had before. Why? Erk shouldn't be acting this way. He was simply her escort and his current actions bordered on blatant insubordination. While he may use the excuse that he was worried about her, such conduct was hardly befitting of an escort of an Etrurian noble. And the fact that he would lay the blame solely at Heath's feet for everything was infuriating. Their army was no doubt an unwelcome guest in Bern's territory and for that the crown would feel nervous at their presence there._

_If Heath was there with her, he may very well be forceful enough to sway Erk's opinion. The mage was stubborn, but would listen to reason if presented with sufficient evidence. But at Lord Eliwood's personal request, Heath had been called to scout out the road ahead. He was not there to support her._

_And not that it would have mattered anyways. Erk would refuse to listen to the one he viewed responsible for the attack. Heath's presence would simply give her peace of mind was all. So, she was left to fend for herself._

_She wanted to lash out verbally against Erk, reprimanding him for his behavior, but she kept her composure. "There's nothing more you need to worry about, Erk," she replied calmly. "Every one of the wyvern riders that attacked us that night was killed. You were there. You saw everything. With no survivors to tell of the battle, Bern will have difficulty tracking us, if they decide to at all."_

_"Your naivety concerns me, Lady Priscilla," Erk replied, his voice softer this time. "Do not presume to think that all of the soldiers Bern sent were present during the battle. They surely had a commander observing the battle from afar, as most patrols of wyvern riders do. Once he realized that the tides of battle had turned against him, he likely returned to the capital to inform his superiors."_

_"I didn't realize you were privy to such information, Erk," Priscilla replied, sounding a bit surprised._

_Erk nodded. "Your father chose me as your escort for a reason, Lady Priscilla. He knew that Lord Pent taught me much more that the ways of the arcane arts. He would not choose someone who knew so little about fighting on a battlefield. As such, I have enough knowledge of battles and skirmishes to get by, and to protect you as well."_

_"I still don't see how any of this pertains to why you won't allow me to see Sir Heath anymore."_

_His face grew taut. "It matters in every sense, Lady Priscilla! With what happened, we are now officially enemies of Bern. This is because of Heath. His face is linked to our army. If Bern's soldiers so much as get a glimpse of him, they will attack without hesitation. While you remain by his side, you are in peril. Surely Heath told you this!"_

_Suddenly she remembered the wyvern rider's words: "__I couldn't ask you to stay with me while I was being hunted by Bern. Once they found me they would find out about you as well and bring harm upon you. I didn't want to expose you to that kind of danger."_

_He had told her. Many times. But she had refused to listen to what he had to say, stubbornly believing that he would protect her no matter what happened._

_"Promise me, Heath," she had said. "Don't ever leave my side again."_

_His response had been soft and full of compassion. "I promise."_

_Wasn't that enough? Why couldn't his word be a sufficient promise?_

_"Lady Priscilla."_

_She turned back to Erk. "Yes…of course he did."_

_Erk nodded and turned away, wrapping his red cloak more tightly about him as they trudged through the snow. Their camp was in sight now. All was silent, save for the soft crunching of the snow beneath their boots. Erk didn't follow up with anything else and Priscilla looked over continuously at him as they marched through the forest surrounding the camp. She didn't like the look he had on his face. He was hiding something from her. But what was it?_

_Instantly she knew what it was. He was so troubled because he had already failed once to protect her from harm. Such a failure undoubtedly wounded his pride, not mention contributing to his already low self-esteem. Forever had Erk seen himself as somewhat lower than the others he worked and studied under, especially Lord Pent. He was terrified that he could never, or would never, for that matter, live up to the expectations of his master or the world._

_Now, not only did he see Heath responsible for her injuries, he was angry at himself for not doing something sooner. By all rights, she was still his responsibility. Compounding that, Heath had vowed to protect her and Erk saw that as a sign of competition of sorts. The fact that had Heath had done so impeded him in his duties._

_Priscilla's heart ached. Things shouldn't be this way. There shouldn't be such conflict within their army. In times such as these, they all needed to learn how to cooperate, despite social and cultural differences._

_Erk looked back at her. "Now, do you understand what I'm trying to tell you, Lady Priscilla?"_

"_Erk…" She trailed off and looked up at the sky. It had stopped snowing now and they were back at camp. Others passed around them, not venturing too close or trying to speak with them. They could tell when certain issues were to remain private matters. Priscilla lowered her head and closed her eyes. "Please, don't ask me to do this."_

_Erk folded his arms across his chest. "I will do what I must, Lady Priscilla. Telling him myself won't do anything. We are equals in this army and Heath will not take orders from the likes of me. Therefore, you must tell him yourself."_

"_I cannot simply tell him to ignore me, Erk. Nor can I just forget about him. That isn't something I can do."_

"_And why not?"_

"_Because he needs me!" Priscilla shouted back at him, forcing Erk to recoil slightly. She couldn't help herself. It felt good to let her rage vent. "You saw what happened that night, Erk! Heath blames himself for what happened just as much as you do! Everyone has turned against him for it and he has no one else! Who else but me, the one person that he trusts and cares about, can he rely on? I can't simply walk away from him. I care too much about him! Can't you understand that?"_

_Erk shook his head. "I do understand, Lady Priscilla. More than you will ever know. But please, do not forget that I care for you just as much as Heath does. My service to you goes far beyond my contract to you and your father."_

"_I know, Erk," she replied solemnly._

"_But he is a man without honor. Heath deserted his country and betrayed his king, no matter the reasons he gave for it. What would your father say if he knew you were associating with such a man?"_

"_I don't care about any of that. All I care about is Heath. It doesn't matter where he comes from or what he has done, I will never leave him."_

"_Did you tell him that earlier, while you were embracing him?" Erk didn't bother to hide the anger and disdain in his voice._

_There was no point in hiding it now. Erk didn't appear to know that she had kissed him, though. It was better that it stayed that way. Best that he thought it was a friendly hug and nothing more. She could only imagine what his reaction would be if he learned the truth._

"_Yes."_

_Erk frowned. "You can't afford to make such rash promises, Lady Priscilla. Please, before you make such decisions, consult with me first. Your relationship with him is already dangerous."_

_She sighed. "Yes, Erk, I will."_

_He nodded. "I'm glad to hear it, Lady Priscilla." He paused. "But you're still intent on staying with him, aren't you?"_

_Her reply was quick. "Yes. I made him a promise."_

"_Lady Priscilla…" He paused again, chewing on his lower lip. He was considering something. "If you will allow me to do so, I will make a deal with you."_

_Priscilla looked at him quizzically. That wasn't what she had expected him to say. She had expected him to be outraged once more, infuriated that she was being so stubborn about this._

"_What kind of deal?" she asked carefully._

"_I can tell that all of this is weighing on you heavily, Lady Priscilla," he said, diverting away from her own question. "You are confused, your feelings for Heath conflicting with the way you look at things. You care about him. I can see that. When you are around him, you are happier than I have ever seen you, Lady Priscilla. Who am I to deny you your own happiness?"_

"_Please, get to the point Erk."_

"_So, I propose you this: as long as you agree to keep me with you at all times, on the battlefield or off, I shall allow to you remain by Heath's side."_

_Her heart skipped a beat. "Oh, Erk that's—"_

_He shot her a glance. "Do not suddenly get the wrong idea, Lady Priscilla. I still do not trust him. As things stand, it is likely that I will never trust him again. I will not make that mistake twice. I still do not want you around Heath when I am not present. But as your escort, it is my job to ensure that you are well, both physically and mentally. If I cannot stop you from seeing him, at the very least I can be there for you should the need arise."_

_Priscilla fought hard to contain her excitement and she recognized Erk's ulterior motives straight away. "You want to keep an eye on him, don't you?"_

"_I believe that it would be beneficial for everyone. He's lied to us too many times already."_

_She mulled over that statement. She would never stop trusting Heath and Erk knew that. But that didn't stop Erk from mistrusting the wyvern rider. He had already made it quite clear that nothing would ever change that. But as long as she agreed with Erk's proposal and agreed to keep him with her at all times, it was likely that the mage would never bring up the topic again. And maybe, just maybe, that if Erk was around Heath more than before, he might come to see that Heath wasn't the "wretch" he so imprudently accused him of being. Any way to ease the tension between the two of them would be a welcome solution._

"_What say you, Lady Priscilla? Do you agree, as long as you promise me that you will not see Heath when I am not around?"_

_Her head hurt. There were too many things going on right now. She couldn't keep up with it all. Already she had promised Heath that she would stay by his side and he had promised her the same thing. And now Erk had asked the impossible, in full knowledge of what she had promised to Heath. Her heart told her to refuse but her mind told her it would be wrong to do so. Since the beginning, Erk had always been the one taking care of her and ensuring that she was well tended. She couldn't just go against him._

_So, she had no choice but to agree with Erk's deal. At least she would still be allowed to see Heath that way._

_Priscilla smiled. "Yes, Erk, I promise."_

And that had been the end of it. She had agreed to Erk's proposal with an enthusiasm that belied her true feelings. When asked if she fully understood the nature of their agreement, she had merely nodded and asked that she be taken out of the cold, effortlessly resuming the role of the escorted daughter of Count Caerlon. Erk had immediately offered her his cloak and led her back to her tent, where she had rested for a short time before the army deployed again. Since then, Erk had not left her side, as promised. If things went the way she wanted them to, everything would turn out just fine.

Priscilla's thoughts drifted back to her kiss with Heath in the snow once more. She smiled again, much broader than before. Her heart ached at the prospect of seeing him again. She desperately needed to see his face.

Promises, so many promises.

How could she possibly hope to keep them all?


End file.
